


Frozen 2: Queen Elsa's Trial

by PinkLed



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 42,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7034317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkLed/pseuds/PinkLed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unnatural drought has devastated Arendelle, and Elsa fears her magic may once again be to blame. Strange events and mysterious visitors will Challenge Elsa & threaten the very existence of her kingdom. Can she overcome her greatest fears before it's too late?</p><p>NOTE: Audio version available on YouTube at <a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/amonia99">https://www.youtube.com/user/amonia99</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“...the Duke of Weselton.”

The words sounded distant and hollow, as if they were drifting across dream worlds, and they were unable to break through the fog that surrounded Elsa, the young queen of Arendelle.

She sat on a blueish-white throne which appeared to have been chiseled from ice, complete with icicles protruding from the top that glistened in the sunlight streaming through the open window. Her platinum blond hair was twisted into an intricate braid which hung over her shoulder, and her sky blue eyes seemed to glow in the light of the setting sun. From the second floor of the castle, where the throne room was located, she watched the waters of the fjord change from blue to gold to orange, and she knew it was going to be a magnificent autumn evening.

“Queen Elsa?”

The name, uttered like a question, was filled with concern. The creature who spoke it was standing at the entrance, framed beneath the tall arch which led out to the hall. He was a fantastic sight, a squat little snowman with two stick arms poking out the sides of his body and a stout carrot planted above a mouth which was twisted into an uncharacteristic frown. A small cloud above his head dispensed life sustaining snow, a gift from his beloved creator and master whom he was trying to communicate with now. He stared unblinking at her, waiting for a response, but she did not reply.

After the great thaw, which was over a year ago, Olaf had experienced some trouble finding his place amongst the residents of the castle. At first he had been happy to roam about, picking flowers, chasing butterflies, blowing bubbles, and enjoying other activities which thrill someone infatuated with summer, which he was. Elsa rarely saw him as he explored the countryside, searching for new and exciting adventures which brought with them new and exciting discoveries. But it wasn’t long before there was nothing new left to satisfy his curiosity.

Restless, purposeless, and running out of things to do, Olaf wandered the castle, trying to help the servants and guards who went about their duties, but mostly getting in their way. There were complaints and expressions of discontent, and that’s when Elsa decided to assign him a job of his own, giving him a position in her official court where it was his duty to greet new visitors and introduce them to the queen. He relished the task and usually performed it with a smile, but smiles were something that were far less common these days, even for someone as endlessly optimistic as Olaf.

“Elsa?”

At last her attention was captured and she turned to Olaf, her expression softening. She saw his frown and had a moment to wonder if she had caused it. Had she been ignoring him? Olaf enjoyed his job of announcing visitors, and she didn’t want to rob him of that joy by making him believe she wasn’t interested. Some might say he only had the job to keep him out of trouble, but that was only half the truth. It was, after all, an important function of her court.

“I’m sorry, Olaf, what did you say?”

He hopped a few steps into the room, wiggling his fingers.

“The Duke of Weselton is here.”

She sat up, her full attention captured by the uttering of that name. The duke was the last person she wanted to see. He had a lot of nerve, she thought, showing his face here, after what he did at her coronation.

The duke had collaborated with Hans, the disgraced Prince of the Southern Isles, who had tried to overthrow her kingdom and usurp the throne. Was the duke drawn back for that vile purpose? To take advantage of Arendelle in its weakened state and finish what he and Hans started? She was struck by the memory of his men, his personal bodyguards, chasing her through her ice palace on the north mountain and attacking her with their crossbows. If he thought she would forget about that, he was sadly mistaken. In the end she had thrown him out, sent him back to Weselton and severed all ties between their kingdoms. She had never expected to see him again, and would have been happy if she hadn’t.

“Why?” Elsa asked, standing up. Her listless eyes had hardened, setting like gems of topaz, and she wore a frown which mirrored Olaf’s. “Tell him to go back home, he’s not welcome here!”

Olaf continued as if he had not heard her.

“He’s asked to see you. He says he has come to help.”

“Ha!”

That was the joke of the day, she thought, the duke wanting to help anybody. She crossed her arms, pacing in front of the throne. The only person he cared about was himself, and he would trample over anyone who got in the way of what he wanted.

“You tell that lying, conniving, no good, son of a jack rabbit that I want nothing to do with him!”

She spun toward Olaf, brushing the train of her gown aside.

“And what’s more--” she began, but Olaf cut her off, watching her through sad eyes.

“He’s brought food and water.”

Elsa stared at him, unable to find the words with which to respond. Food and water? Why would he do such a thing? She realized now that she could not turn him away, that she would have to swallow her pride and welcome him to Arendelle.

She sat down hard on the throne, elbows on knees, chin in hands as her eyes traced the cracks that ran between the smooth bricks in the floor. She imagined the duke’s smirk, his gloating smile, and she pressed her lips together until they were two thin red lines. She glanced over her shoulder, finding the place where Marshmallow loomed like a gargoyle guardian behind the throne. He was massive, his head nearly touching the vaulted ceiling, with glowing yellow eyes that searched the room and icicle claws which protruded from giant hands like spikes. Seeing him there brought her a measure of comfort, but it was not enough to allay her anxiety. She still dreaded the idea of speaking to the duke, especially after swearing that Arendelle would never do business with him again.

She turned back to Olaf who was waiting, his arms held wide and his eyes wider, imploring her for a response.

“Fine,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “Send him in.”

Elsa sat back, gripping the throne like it was a runaway carriage, resting her head against the backrest as she closed her eyes. Had it really come to this, she thought? She, the protector of her people, bowing before an enemy, kneeling before those who had tried to destroy her? Yes, it had come to this, because she had failed to find another way. She had failed to provide a solution for her people, so here she was.

She was unaware of the small crusts of ice which formed beneath her fingers, tracing tiny paths around the decorations of the armrests and spiraling down their stems. It was the first time in more than a year that her magic had acted without her knowledge, an involuntary response, an unconscious release spurred by her inner turmoil.

Footsteps in the hall signaled the approach of the visitors and she sat up, brushing the wrinkles out of the front of her sky blue gown. Olaf entered first, followed by the duke and his two companions.

The duke looked the same as when she had last seen him, his navy blue jacket decorated with medals and crossed by a red sash, his white mustache twitching above a disingenuous smile. Small, beady eyes peered out from behind rounded spectacles, appraising everything of value in the room and no doubt wondering how much of it he could fit on his ship. It sickened her, just being in the same room with him, but she was quick to bury such feelings. Hiding her feelings was a talent she possessed in remarkable supply, although it had been some time since she had to employ such a skill.

Conceal, don’t feel, she thought.

Olaf stopped the procession halfway between the entrance and the throne. He stood aside, motioning toward the men.

“Queen Elsa,” he said, trying to sound official. “I present...the Duke of Weasel Town.”

“Weselton!” The old man shrieked. Olaf gave her a wink and she couldn’t help but smile despite the tightening knot in her stomach, and that’s why she loved that little snowman. But as Olaf left his levity left with him, and the three unwelcome visitors were left standing before the throne, visitors who could not be denied.

The duke stepped forward, and at the same moment Marshmallow stirred from behind Elsa, a low rumble resembling a growl filling the room. The duke took a quick step back, regarding the beast with obvious displeasure before speaking.

“Your Majesty,” he rasped, bowing low to the ground. He motioned for his companions to do the same and they obeyed. “You are a welcome sight for these old eyes.”

Elsa wasn’t convinced by his display of respect, wondering, and not for the first time, what his true agenda was.

“I wish I could say the same, duke. Why have you come here? You know you are not welcome in Arendelle.”

“My dear queen,” he said, his lips forming a strange shape meant to resemble a smile. “All that was a long time ago. I was hoping we could let bygones be bygones.”

“You didn't answer the question,” she said, not hiding her irritation. “Why have you come here?”

The duke maintained his smile.

“We have heard of the suffering of Arendelle. As your closest partner in trade it is our duty to help the best that we can. We have brought food, water, and supplies to ease the suffering of your people.”

She doubted his motives were genuinene. Such a caring, giving sentiment defied everything she knew about the duke.

“A noble act indeed,” she said. “And I suppose you came all the way over here out of the kindness of your heart?”

The duke ignored the jab.

“We have heard the stories,” he said, his tone turning harsh as he abandoned his pretense of respect. “The rivers have stopped, the wells have run dry, the crops are dying. People are fleeing Arendelle like it has the plague.”

It sounded to Elsa like a recital of accusations, a recounting of her kingdom’s troubles as if to charge her with neglect. She sat up, her voice rising.

“Is that why you came here? To point out the suffering of my people, as if I am not aware?”

“Your Majesty, I meant no disrespect.”

“No disrespect?” She stood up, her blood pounding in her ears. She was tormented day and night by the suffering of her people and she didn’t need to be reminded of it by a man who cared nothing about them. “I am the Queen of Arendelle! It is my duty to protect my people, to provide for MY people! And you think I am unaware of their suffering?”

A sudden breeze ruffled the duke’s poorly fitted toupee, a rush of chilled air which made him and his men shiver. A single snowflake swirled around the room and landed on his nose, where it melted. He wiped it away.

“No, Your Majesty,” he said, exchanging a nervous glance with his companions. “We only want to help. We have brought the tradable goods you seek, a boat full of foodstuffs, barrels of water, and other provisions. It is for you and your people.”

Elsa stared at him, evaluating the truth of his statement. She didn’t know what his agenda was, what he was really after, but his claim was enough to dampen her ire. She went to the window, the only window in the room, and looked out over the fjord. The sun had dipped so low it had nearly kissed the face of the water, and the duke’s ship was awash in its glow as it bobbed up and down at the docks. Had he really brought all those things, she wondered? If so, why? What did he want?

“Arendelle has nothing left to trade,” she said, still watching the sun. “We’ve exhausted everything we have, traded everything of value away.”

It was true. If the duke sought compensation for his delivery of goods then he was too late, they had already given it all away, sold everything to their trading partners in exchange for the supplies they lacked, such as food, water, and other necessities. She looked back at him, expecting to see disappointment, but he was wearing a strange grin which she found disturbing. She looked away, watching the fjord again while she waited for his response. It didn’t come for a long time. What was he waiting for, she wondered? He was probably gloating, reveling in his new found power over her, enjoying every moment of her distress. Is that why he had traveled all this way? If he was here to witness her suffering there was plenty for him to see, but she had no intention of placating his despicable cravings.

“I will not beg for your charity,” she said, turning back to him. His expression didn’t change as he held the silence between them a little longer, long enough for Elsa to become uncomfortable. When he did reply his tone was one of deep satisfaction.

“Ahhh, but there will be no need, Your Majesty. Arendelle has plenty left to trade.”

He plunged his hand into his waistcoat and produced a roll of papers bound by a yellow ribbon. He held them out, motioning for Elsa to take them. She didn’t.

“What’s this?” she asked, cautious of the unexpected offering. The duke stepped forward as if he were going to approach, then glanced at Marshmallow and thought better of it. He stood there, arm extended, holding the papers out.

“Land deeds,” he said. “A simple transaction. Sign these deeds over to me and everything on my ship is yours.”

Elsa hesitated, regarding the duke with suspicion before hurrying across the room and snatching the papers out of his hand. She turned away, undoing the ribbon with a flick of her finger as she headed back to the throne, but what she saw stopped her in her tracks. She flipped to the second page, then to the next one, then to another. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, and she paged through the rest of the sheets, about 20 altogether, before whirling back to the duke.

“Where did you get these?” she demanded, holding the papers out like a teacher brandishing a ruler.

“Does that really matter?”

His smug response only fueled her outrage.

“These are the finest plots of land in all of Arendelle!” she said.

“A small price to pay for the lives of your people, is it not?”

Elsa couldn’t believe what he was asking. She had expected him to have ulterior motives but this? This was incomprehensible! He wanted to take half her kingdom for a single ship of food and water. And what would happen when those supplies ran out? No doubt there would be another ship and another offer, until all of Arendelle was ripped away. On the other hand, if she refused, she was gambling with the lives of her people, and the odds were not in her favor.

She returned to the throne, sinking into it like a wilted flower, her fury melting into despair.

“You’re a monster,” she said.

“No, you’re the monster, as I recall. How do you know you’re not the one causing this cursed drought?”

The accusation struck her hard, a verbal attack which felt like a physical blow, leaving her dazed and short of breath. That was the one fear she had refused to give words to, as if concealing it beneath a litany of alternatives would somehow make it untrue, and now the duke had dug it up and thrust it in her face. But it had always been there, hiding and trying to work its way out. Now that it was free there was nothing to blunt its poisonous sting and Elsa felt a chill pass through her, followed by a cold breeze which swirled around the room, bringing with it a flurry of snowflakes. The three men grasped their coats, pulling them tighter as they looked around with surprise. The duke was the first to regain his composure, and he wasted no time in continuing his attack.

“Think about it!” he said. “Arendelle suffers from the worst drought anyone has ever seen, yet every other kingdom around you prospers! Face it Elsa, you have cursed this land!”

“No!”

Elsa was surprised by the force at which she rejected that notion, rising to her feet and shouting the denial. The chilling breeze intensified, howling through the room and churning with a ferocity that matched the fear and anger swelling within her. The men stood their ground, clutching their coats about them and turning their faces away from the wind. Elsa stood upon the dais of the throne, her braid flapping as she fixed the duke with a malevolent glare.

“I will not be bullied by a selfish, opportunistic predator who wants to pad his coffers with the tears of my people!"

A burst of snow bloomed around her in a gush of white flakes. They were caught up in the vortex, pelting the duke and his men with tiny ice crystals which cut into their skin. They raised their arms to protect their faces from the bite of the storm. Elsa stepped down off the dais and the two bodyguards backed away as she approached, but the duke stood fast, looking her directly in the eye. When he spoke his voice was almost a growl.

“Think about it Elsa. They’ll die without my help!”

Elsa stopped before him, her whole body trembling with rage. She tore the papers apart and let them go, and they circled around the room like leaves in a dust storm.

“You will not come into my kingdom and threaten my people with extinction!”

She took another step forward, and this time the duke yielded to her advance, backpedaling as she marched him toward the door.

“You will not blackmail me into selling my people or their land so they may become slaves to a barbarian!”

The duke and his companions missed the door during their retreat, their backs pressed up against the wall beside it. Their hands shielded their faces, their eyes squinting through the snow which tore at them with the fierceness of a blizzard. Elsa stood before them, her eyes locked on the duke, and she seemed to tower over him even as she fought to control the anger which threatened to consume her.

She didn’t want to lose control. If she let the duke get to her then he had power over her, and she would not allow that. She turned away, leaving them behind as she walked back to the throne. The wind stopped and the storm subsided, the snowflakes sauntering to the ground where they dotted the floor in patches of white. But the storm inside Elsa churned on, it would not be so easily quelled, and she sat on the throne, taking deep breaths as she tried to quiet her stirring emotions. It had been a long time since she had felt like this, and she didn’t like it. What’s more, she didn’t want to give the duke the satisfaction of seeing her this way, so she concealed her feelings deep inside, burying them in that old familiar place which she knew so well.

The duke stepped away from the wall, brushing the snow from his arms and readjusting his toupee which had twisted at an odd angle. His companions tugged at the edges of their coats and squeezed their gloves together, trying in vain to appear unruffled. They stood together, as if preparing a response to her angry outburst, but she had no desire to hear anything else they had to say. She was done with them. When she spoke again, her tone was flat and emotionless, a considerable achievement considering her condition.

“You are banished from Arendelle.” She was too agitated to consider whether the punishment was appropriate, and frankly, she didn’t care; she just wanted them gone. “I never want to see you in my kingdom again.”

The duke drew himself up to his full height, which was not very high, and jabbed a finger at her.

“You’ll regret this,” he said between clenched teeth. Elsa ignored him.

“Marshmallow,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the duke. “Escort these men back to their ship.”

Marshmallow took a giant step forward and the duke’s frown melted into horror.

“That won’t be necessary!” he said, turning with his men to flee, but the beast was too large and too fast and it easily caught up with them. It scooped them up, the duke in one hand and his guards in the other, and carried them kicking and screaming back to the harbor where he threw them onto the docks. They landed in a tangled heap of arms and legs.

“DON’T COME BACK!” the beast roared. The men scrambled to get up, tripping and falling over themselves as they scurried up the gangplank in a rush to board their ship. Marshmallow stood guard as they detached from the mooring and prepared to leave.

“You’ll regret this!” The duke screamed, shaking his fist at the castle. “You’ll regret this!”

When the boat was gone Marshmallow returned, taking up his position behind the throne where Elsa still sat, motionless and staring at the empty archway. Olaf had returned too, and he cocked his head sideways, watching his master.

“Are you okay, Elsa?”

The question didn’t register. She was lost in her thoughts, considering what the duke had said. His words echoed like a thunder clap in a canyon and she could not shut them out. _You have cursed this land!_

Could it be true? Was her magic betraying her? It wouldn’t be the first time.

She looked at the last fading clump of snow in the middle of her throne room, watching as it dissolved in the dying light of the setting sun. She had lost control of her magic today, lost control for the first time since…

She didn’t want to think about the last time.

...since Anna’s sacrifice.

Another chill passed through her. She thought those days were far behind her, but was that just a foolish dream? Was she deceiving herself?

_You have cursed this land!_

Elsa sighed and rubbed her eyes. Where was Anna when she needed her?

“Elsa?”

Olaf came to her and put his hand on hers. He studied her with the concern of a child, the way a son might look at an ailing mother.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

Elsa tried to smile, wanted to reassure him that everything was fine, but she was unable to produce the desired expression. Instead, a row of ice crystals sprouted from her hand and enveloped Olaf’s little stick arm. He drew back, shaking them off with considerable effort.

“Olaf.”

“Yes, Elsa?”

“Please get me my gloves.”


	2. Chapter 2

Elsa stood at the window of her throne room, breathing in the crisp morning air which accompanied the new day.  The shadow of the mountains were shrinking, fleeing before the rising sun and leaving behind a field of golden light which sparkled across the harbor.  The bright blue sky stretched from the farthest reaches of the fjord to the most distant mountains, not a single cloud dotting its canvas.  Of course, there were never any clouds, not anymore; no clouds, no rain, and no snow, not even on the mountains.  The rivers had run dry and the wells had stopped, there was no water to be found anywhere.

The drought had started near the beginning of Spring, both fierce in its intensity and unusual in its timing.  First, the snow of the mountains had melted, disappearing over the course of many days as if it had evaporated.  It was Kristoff who had first noticed this, pointing to the line of peaks behind the castle and commenting how the snow seemed to be receding, and he was right.  Each morning Elsa would look out the window of her bedroom to see the edge of the snow had creeped further up the sides of the mountains.  In the beginning it was more of a curiosity than a concern as she was used to fluctuations in snow cover, perhaps not as dramatic, but fluctuations nonetheless.  However, when the melting didn’t stop and the snow disappeared she knew something was wrong.

By all accounts, if the snow had melted as fast as it had then the rivers should have been overflowing their banks, flooding the valleys, and turning waterfalls into sideways geysers, but none of that happened.  In fact, the opposite occurred.  The nearest waterfall, a magnificent stream of water which plummeted from the mountains high above the city, had dried up.  Not all at once, not in one day, but it was a noticeable decline, its flow tapering until it slowed to a trickle and then stopped altogether, as if someone had dammed it up, but of course, no one had.

Once the rivers had stopped and the snow had melted there had been a palpable sense of foreboding which passed through the kingdom.  No one had ever heard of such a thing, not even the old timers, and no one knew what to do.  The only thing they could do was pray for rain, but that was a prayer which had so far gone unanswered.  It hadn’t rained in Arendelle for almost six months and without water the people could not survive, and they were looking to their queen to avert such a dire conclusion.

Elsa, for her part, had relied on her trading partners for deliveries of water and what she received she stored in the cellar of the castle, rationing it amongst all the residents of Arendelle.  Every morning it was the same routine, the people would come streaming to the castle to receive their daily allotment of water, standing in long lines which seemed to grow shorter every day as more and more people fled the kingdom to escape the cruel hand of the drought.  It was well that they left, Elsa thought, and she would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about leaving too, but that was impossible.  Many of the ones who remained in Arendelle simply had nowhere else to go, and she would not abandon those who were trapped here.  The people, for their part, trusted her to take care of them, to provide for them, and they believed she would not fail them.

She wished that were true.

She had tried to find a solution in the early days of the drought, and the most obvious source of relief had been her magic.  Large wooden structures were built, devices which resembled troughs and were designed to capture her ice and divert the melting water into barrels.  It had been a fine idea and an engineering marvel, but it didn’t work.

It’s not that the contraptions hadn’t produced water; they had.  Over the course of a single night’s melting they had collected enough water to fill over 20 barrels, but there was something wrong with the water, harvested from magical ice with properties unknown.  Everyone who drank it got sick, falling so ill that many became bedridden.  Animals refused to taste it, turning away after a single sniff.  Even the crops wilted and died after being doused with the unnatural liquid.

Elsa had been devastated, devastated and ashamed.  What good was her magic if it couldn’t help the people she loved?

She heard footsteps in the hall and turned from the window.

“Alek?”

There was a short silence followed by heavy footsteps, then a gaunt man appeared, removing his hat and tucking it under his arm.  He wore a green uniform, as all the guards did, but his had red patches on the shoulders to indicate his position of authority and as captain of the guard.  He was older than most of the guards, the lines in his face betraying a youthful appearance, and his sandy blonde hair was flecked with grey.  Elsa could tell he hadn’t bathed recently as dark smudges of dirt and mud speckled his cheeks and chin.  This was unusual, she thought, for Alek was always well groomed, clean, and presentable.  He had high standards for the appearance of his men and he was the sort who would never ask of someone what he was not willing to do himself.  She knew he was depriving himself of water, and although it saddened her, it really didn’t surprise her.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

He stood at attention, his back straight, his shoulders up, and his heels pressed together.  Despite having served in the castle for many years his insistence on routine had never faltered.  The kingdom may be crumbling around them, Elsa thought, but Alek’s sense of formality would never expire.

“Alek,” she said, her voice full of concern, “have you taken your ration of water today?”

Alek paused, considering the question.  This was not the reason she had called him, but she felt compelled to ask.

“Not yet, Your Majesty.”

That was all he offered, and though she waited for an explanation she knew she would have to pry it out of him.

“When was the last time you took your ration?”

He paused again, as if it took considerable effort to respond.

“The day before yesterday, Your Majesty.”

“Alek!”

This wasn’t the first time they had had such a discussion, but it was the first time she had noticed evidence of his abstain.  She felt something stir inside of her, something like maternal instincts, as if it were her responsibility to care for his well being.  Alek was capable of caring for himself, she knew that, but when she saw him neglecting his own welfare she felt like a mother who had failed to provide for her own.  It was a feeling that was becoming all too familiar.

“You are to take a double ration of water today,” she said.

“Your Majesty, the people…”

“That is a command, not a request!” she said, sounding sterner than she had intended, but it was just as well, she thought.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Alek was stubborn, but she knew he would obey.  He always did.

She turned back to the window, watching the line of people shrink as they received their portions then return home, carrying the water in whatever receptacles they had to carry it in.  The allotment wasn’t much, and it grew smaller every week.  It wouldn’t be long before there was no more left to give.

“How much water do we have left?” she asked, still looking out the window.  A woman had brought a small child with her, he couldn’t have been more than 4 or 5, and he was dancing around her as if it was an occasion for celebration, oblivious to the somber reason for their gathering.  For a moment she envied him.

“A week perhaps,” Alek said.  “Two at the most.”

A week, she thought, maybe two.  So far, the people hadn’t protested, though their situation was bleak, but what would they do on the morning they came for water and found there was none?

“Do the people know?”

“No, Your Majesty.  The records are kept under lock and key.  Only you and I have access to them.”

“Good.  Please keep it that way.”  She had no intention of deceiving them; she kept them informed and they knew the stakes, knew that if they didn’t find water these bartered supplies would only last so long.  But the people had enough problems to deal with, they didn’t need to worry about how close they were to losing all hope.  That was her burden to bear and she would bear it alone for as long as she could, until there was no hope left, but that time had not yet come.

“Anna and Kristoff should be returning today with news of the journey west,” she said.  She had intended that to sound hopeful but it rung hollow in her ears.  Was there any reason to believe this journey would end differently than the others?

In the Spring, after it became clear that the rain was gone and the snow would not be returning, every able bodied man in the kingdom had been asked to participate in a search for water.  Elsa had not made it mandatory, as Alek had suggested, but the response had been overwhelming.

The volunteers were split into groups and assigned to alternating one week excursions with a period of time off in between, time intended for them to rest with their families and recover from the search.  Much to Anna’s dismay, Kristoff had refused to take a break from the exhaustive explorations.  He had become the de facto leader of each expedition, heading up search party after search party as they combed the land in every direction, looking for the one resource that would save the kingdom from disaster.

The first group of volunteers had made a foray into the mountains to the north, checking the valleys for lakes and ponds that might have escaped the wrath of the drought.  It was a vast area made up of difficult terrain, so repeated patrols had to be dispatched to make sure nothing was overlooked or forgotten, however, they found nothing.  The same was true of the searches east and south.

By the time they were ready to search west, along the fingers of the fjord, most of the men had left, fleeing Arendelle and taking their families with them.  That left only a small number of people who were able to participate in the hunt, and perhaps that’s why Kristoff had insisted that Anna go with him on this last excursion.  Or maybe he just missed her.  Either way, she had gone and Elsa was left to worry about her safety, worry born from Anna’s frequent cases of carelessness and intensified by her accident last Spring, when she took a tumble while climbing a rock, but she knew Anna couldn’t be in more capable hands.  Besides, if they didn’t find water another accident would be the least of her concerns.

_If they didn’t find water_...

How could she even consider such a notion?  She didn't want to think about what would happen if they didn’t find water.  As long as there remained places to look, she could afford the luxury of a little hope.

“We’re going to find water, Alek.”

Alek was silent and she knew he was not convinced by her assurance.  Was she convinced by her own words?  She had to be.  If they didn’t have hope they didn’t have anything.

“We will find water,” she repeated, turning to face him.  Alek nodded, stone faced.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

He stood at attention a while longer, waiting for additional exposition that never came.  Elsa was lost in her thoughts, wondering how many of her people had lost hope, as the captain of her guard seemed to have.  Alek stirred, clearing his throat.

“Will that be all, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, Alek,” she said as she returned to the window.  “Thank you.”

Alek shoved his hat back on and turned on his heel, preparing to leave, but then stopped beneath the archway.  He waited for a long moment with his head bowed, as if contemplating something, then he started to leave again, making it a few steps into the hall before stopping and turning around, coming back into the room.

“Your Majesty.”

“Yes, Alek?”  Her gaze was still focused on the people outside.  The line had dwindled down to just a few men with a couple of stragglers joining at the last moment.  One of them, an old man with white hair, was hobbling as fast as his crooked legs would carry him, waving a silver cup over his head like a white flag.

“There are rumors,” Alek said.  His tone was odd and Elsa couldn’t quite place it.  She turned back to him.

“Rumors?”

He nodded.

“Yes, Your Majesty.  People are saying that the Duke of Weselton brought water, but you refused his offer.”

Elsa looked at him for a long while, judging his intentions.  Was it an accusation, she wondered?  Was he charging her with neglect?  Her pulse quickened and she fought against the stale remnants of emotions which had been stirred within her the day before.  Then she scolded herself.  This was Alek, not the Duke of Weselton.

Alek had served as a guard to the royal family for many years, having been personally hired by her father before she was born.  He had always been there, an integral part of the castle as if he were an essential cog in the works that made it run, and perhaps that was not far from the truth.  He had never married, choosing instead to dedicate his life to the guardianship of Arendelle’s monarchs.  During this time he had weathered multiple crisis’ with his loyalty intact, including the Hans’ led coup following her coronation.  He never wavered in his allegiance and she had always been able to count on him for support.  She realized there was no malice in the question.

“Alek, I would never deprive you or any of my people from having the things they need if it is in my power to give it.”

“I know, Your Majesty.”  He cast his eyes downward and took a step back, as if he were ashamed he had even asked the question.  “I’m sorry, I should never have brought it up.”

“You love these people as much as I do,” Elsa said, turning back to the window.  “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Alek said.  This was followed by a long silence, and Elsa watched the old man arrive at his destination just in time, huffing and puffing his relief.  The waiting servants gave him two ladlefuls of water.  

“If you need me I will be in the cellar,” Alek said.  Elsa nodded, then he left.  He passed Olaf in the hall and Olaf waved, flailing his little stick arm so wildly it seemed like it might come off.

“Elsa!” Olaf called as he entered the room, running toward her in the waddling, skipping manner he used when he was happy, which was most of the time.  In fact, Olaf was about the only smile which could be regularly seen in Arendelle anymore.  He perched by the window and smiled up at her.  That smile was often able to melt through even the most bitter of spirits, but today the flicker of his grin failed to kindle any life in her own expression, or burn away the remnants of her frown.

“Good morning,” he said, sounding a bit concerned.

“Good morning, Olaf,” she said, turning her attention away from the old man who was hobbling back home.  She dropped to her knees, picking at the loose snow clumping around a cluster of small sticks on his head arranged to look like hair.

“Do you know what today is?” he asked, standing on his tip toes and opening his mouth in a wide smile.  When he didn’t continue she realized he was waiting for an answer.  She thought for a moment then shook her head.

“No, tell me.”

“Ice skating day!” he said, laughing and twirling away as if the throne room were a frozen lake and he was an ice skating ballerina.

Elsa stood up, chuckling.  It felt good to laugh, even if it was brief.  She could always count on Olaf to cheer her up, but today it wouldn’t last.  She went to her throne and sat down, tracing the outlines of its decorations with one finger.

“I don’t think we’ll be having an ice skating day today,” she said.  Olaf’s head stopped mid twirl, turning to look at Elsa as the rest of his body completed the graceful twist.

“What?” he said, his disappointment stinging her.  “But we never miss ice skating day.”  His arms drooped and his smile faltered.

“I’m sorry, Olaf.  I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Olaf turned, head low and feet shuffling as he left the room.  Elsa felt awful, but entertaining the kingdom with an ice skating day was the last thing she wanted to do.  She just wanted to be left alone.  It had been a long time since she had felt that way, since she felt like crawling in a hole and shutting out the world.  She had spent most of her childhood shutting out the world, locked away in her room, hating every minute of her solitude and yet wanting it at the same time.  Hating and wanting, that had been her curse for most of her life and now it was back.  For the first time since her coronation she wanted the world to disappear, to go away and take its incredible weight off her shoulders.

She went to the window again, wondering how far Kristoff and Anna were from home.  Their plan was to follow the southern edge of the fjord, searching more inland at first and then turning closer to the shore on their way back.  She strained to see as far west as possible, but the fjord was straddled by the feet of massive mountains, making it impossible to see beyond the nearest peak.  She left the window, pacing back and forth as she mulled questions she did not have answers for.  How far had they gotten?  Had they found water?  Had they encountered any danger?  This last question always vexed her, and she tried not to dwell on the dangers which waited for them in the uncharted wilderness, but it was hard not to worry.  This was doubly true with Anna joining them, not that she didn’t trust Kristoff to keep her safe, but sometimes Anna wasn’t one to listen to reason when it came to her own safety.

She spent the rest of the day waiting, pacing, sitting on the throne, watching out the window, and occasionally wandering the castle.  She had lunch in the rose garden and dinner in the great hall, but all she could manage was a few bites, spending most of the time pushing the food around the plate until one of the servants took it away.

Olaf returned with her to the throne room, and when she started pacing again he joined her.  He followed as they made their circular journey to nowhere, and together they watched the shadows trace low arches across the floor as the sun sank toward the fjord.  Still, Anna and Kristoff had not returned.

After the sun set one of the servants arrived to light candles, and as the darkness outside drew deeper Elsa’s gnawing worry chewed a hole through her voice of reason, convincing her that something had happened, another accident perhaps, a fall from a cliff face or an attack by some wild animal.  Her worry was beginning to boil over when she heard footsteps coming down the hall.  She leapt up from the throne, startling Olaf who stood beside her, and ran toward the archway just as Anna emerged, grinning and towing Kristoff close behind.

“Elsa!” Anna called out, giddy with excitement.  She let go of Kristoff and threw her arms around her sister.  Kristoff stood a few steps away, his eyes straying toward Marshmallow, who stood motionless behind the throne, before seeing Olaf who was smiling and waving.

“Hi Kristoff!” Olaf said.  Kristoff waved back but did not return the smile.

Elsa took Anna by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length, studying her.  Her dark blue dress was ruffled and scuffed around the knees and her ruby red sleeveless cloak had smudges of dirt along the edges.  Elsa had a vision of her scaling rocky cliffs and dangling from ledges and she shuddered, her heart skipping a beat at the thought.  Anna’s strawberry blonde hair was braided into pigtails, as usual, and her cheeks were flushed with color, nearly matching her hair in tone.  Her turquoise eyes flickered between green and blue in the torchlight, her freckles dancing across her nose as she smiled.

“You’re practically glowing,” Elsa said and Anna nodded.  Elsa looked at Kristoff for some clue to Anna’s excitement but he was expressionless, scratching one large hand through his thick, blonde hair.

“You found it then?” Elsa said, a ray of hope daring to pierce her heart.  “Did you find it?”

“The water?” Anna’s smile faltered, the light which brightened her eyes fading as she looked back at Kristoff.  “Well...no...not exactly.”  Then her smile reappeared.  “But I know we will, it’s just a matter of time!”

“Oh,” Elsa said, trying not to sound as disappointed as she felt.  Despite her effort to restrain her expectations, Anna’s smile had brought a glimmer of hope, but now it was gone.  She crossed her arms and rubbed at her shoulders as if to ward off a chill, and she was drawn once again into the shell of hopelessness that had built itself around her.  Her eyes went to the floor and she stood unseeing, like she was in a trance, as she considered the implications of yet another failed search.  Anna looked back at Kristoff, worry etched upon her brow.  Kristoff shrugged and motioned for her to continue and Anna went to him, standing at his side and locking arms with him.  She took a deep breath, held it, and then said, “Elsa, we have something to tell you.”

Elsa was lost in her thoughts, preoccupied by Anna’s news, or lack thereof, so she didn’t notice how nervous Kristoff appeared as he glanced between the two girls, or the glint in Anna’s eyes as she waited for her sister’s attention.  It took more than a moment for the words to register and when they did she looked up, seeing Anna standing next to Kristoff with a strange expression.  Her lips were pinched together in an anxious half-smile and her eyes were wide, a mix of serious with a dash of excitement, but what Anna could be so excited about she didn’t know.

“What is it?” Elsa asked.

“We’re getting married!” Anna said.

Elsa’s mouth dropped open.  The news wasn’t a total shock, of course, as Kristoff had been courting her sister for over a year, however, it was still rather unexpected.  With the recent escalation of the drought and sudden ominous news she half expected them to be joking.  She searched their expressions for some sign they were putting her on, but it was clear they were not.  Anna was nodding and grinning and Kristoff’s lips were cocked in an uneasy grin.

Elsa’s surprise melted into joy.

“Married?” she said.  “Why, that’s wonderful!”

She went to Anna and they embraced again. “That’s so wonderful!  I’m so happy for you!”

She held onto Anna, inhaling the smoky forest aroma that clung to her hair and clothes like an exotic perfume.  She glanced over at Kristoff, narrowing her eyes into a mock glare and pretending to be displeased.

“It’s about time,” she growled.

She let go of Anna and took her hands, forgetting about the water and the drought and the long lines of people outside her window.  For now there was only Kristoff and Anna, with Anna glowing like a ripe strawberry and wearing a radiant smile.  But the moment was broken by Anna’s gasp as she looked down at Elsa’s hands.

“Elsa!  You’re wearing the gloves again!”

Elsa turned away, burying her hands in the folds of her crossed arms.  She had forgotten about the gloves and the sudden reminder made her feel self conscious. They were a safety measure, a symbolic barrier between the world and her magic, and although they brought her a measure of comfort she was not proud of them.

Anna put a hand on her shoulder but Elsa pulled away, going to her throne where she sat down, bunched up like a winter traveler next to a fire.

“Elsa,” Anna said.  “What happened?”

Elsa tried to relax, willing her muscles to release as she sat back in the throne and folded her hands into her lap.  She produced a weak smile.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” she said, “nothing I can’t manage.”

That wasn’t completely true, and she knew it.  The truth was, she had lost control again, even if it was only for a moment, and that _was_ something to worry about; in fact, she had been worrying about it since the duke and his men sailed away, since she watched the last remnants of snow melt in her throne room, evaporating like the water in her kingdom.  She wanted to tell Anna, to tell her how afraid she was, but she wasn’t ready to give voice to her fears, not yet.  So she changed the subject.

“I’m just glad you made it back safely,” she said.  “Did the trip go well?”

“We traveled two days west,” Kristoff said, his brown eyes rimmed with disappointment.  His broad shoulders sagged on his muscular frame, and although he looked tired, and no doubt was, Elsa knew it was more than physical exhaustion which dragged him down.  “We looked in every place I know where to look.  There’s just no water.”

His voice was full of apology, as if he held himself responsible for the failure, but Elsa knew he had done everything he could, and more, in helping with the search.  No matter how much they looked, though, they just couldn’t find water.

_And you never will…_

“Thank you, Kristoff,” she said.  “I know you did your best.”

Olaf hopped over to Anna, as if the mood of the room had made him not want to be alone.  Anna put a hand on his shoulder and smiled at Elsa.

“It’ll work out,” she said.  “You’ll see.  We’ll think of something”

“I wish I shared your optimism,” Elsa said.  As usual, Anna was trying to find the hope in a hopeless situation.  Most of the time that was exactly what Elsa needed to break through her dark mood, but this time it would require more than positive thinking to overcome her melancholy, but overcome it she must.  Anna had returned bubbling over with joy and she had no intention of being the one to break her sister’s spirit.

“But enough of all that depressing talk,” she said, standing up and clasping her hands together.  “You’re getting married!  I can’t believe it!”

“I know!” Anna said, the excitement percolating in her eyes again.  She ran over and took Elsa’s hands.  “He asked me the morning after we left.  I couldn’t believe it!  Here I thought we were just going on another boring trip through the wilderness and the next day he proposes!  I had just woken up, my hair was a mess, I wasn’t even dressed properly, and he gets down on one knee and asks if I’ll marry him!  I said ‘yes,’ of course.  Well, you know that, it’s not like I could have said no...well, I could have, but that’s not the point.  I just couldn’t wait to get back to tell you!”

Elsa watched Anna carry on with her excited chatter, her red braids bouncing, her turquoise eyes dancing, and she couldn’t help but get caught up in the joy of the moment.  Her little sister was getting married, and she could hardly believe it.  This was the most important event of Anna’s life so far, and for the first time she was going to be there to share it with her.  She had missed so much during her years of isolation, had missed the moments that were so important, and now was her chance to make up for lost time.

“It’s going to be wonderful!” Elsa said, thinking about the wedding, and she was swept up in a dreamscape of possibilities.  She saw servants dressed in their finest, silver platters of food, crystal goblets of wine, and a throng of adoring subjects offering congratulations.  It would be the perfect wedding, she would make sure of that.  Anna deserved no less.

“We’ll need a few days to plan,” Elsa said, scrunching up her shoulders, “but we’ll throw the biggest ball for you!  Of course we’ll have your favorites: soup, roast and ice cream, and we’ll invite the whole kingdom!  It’ll be just like…”

She stopped, like a babbling brook suddenly run dry, and her dream world shattered.  The perfect wedding was replaced by empty cupboards, bare shelves, and supplies unfit for a market much less a marriage ceremony.  Elsa stared into Anna’s eyes, chin trembling, thinking how she was going to let her down again.  Tears welled up and she fought hard against them, clenching her jaw, trying to hold them back, but it was no use and she burst into tears.

Kristoff looked startled and Olaf bounded over, his eyes wide with concern.  Anna took Elsa by the shoulders, pulling her close, and Elsa buried her face into her neck, sobbing.  Anna shot a look at Kristoff and he at once understood its meaning, grabbing Olaf by the arm and heading out of the room.

Elsa had been caught off guard by the fierceness of the emotion, surprised by her own tears, and after a brief cry she worked to regain her composure.

“I can’t even have a party for my sister,” she said, dabbing at her eyes.  “It’s the most important event of your life and I can’t even celebrate it for you.”

Anna smiled.  It was a comforting, sympathetic smile, and Elsa was struck at how much it made her look like their mother.  She had seen that smile upon their mother’s face many times, the one that said she understood and everything was going to be alright.

“Oh, Elsa,” Anna said, brushing a stray hair away from her sister’s face.  “There’s nothing I want more than to just be with you and Kristoff.  As long as I have that I have everything I need.”

Elsa felt another tear trying to push its way out and she sniffed, wiping at her nose with a handkerchief Anna handed her.

“I’m so sorry,” Elsa said.

“For what?”

“For ruining your moment.  You were so happy when you got here and I ruined everything.”

“Elsa!” Anna said, gently scolding her.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  But I know there’s something bothering you.  What happened?”

Elsa exhaled, as if trying to empty herself of all concerns, and sat down on the throne.  There were times when holding in her emotions was easy to do, an exercise which required little thought or effort.  This was not one of those times.

Since her reconciliation with Anna she had far less reason to hold everything in, and she was thankful for that.  The instinct to conceal her feelings was a strong one, but with Anna’s help she had learned to fight against it.  She recalled the evening after their ordeal with Hans, they had stayed up late sitting by the fire, drinking hot glögg and catching up on years of lost time.  For the first time in her life her emotions had come pouring out of her and Anna had been more than ready to receive them.  That night they had laughed together and cried together, and her sister had given her a comfort she had never known.

Anna knelt down next to her, leaning on the armrest, anxious for the story, and Elsa was already feeling the relief that only her sister’s presence could provide.  She scrubbed at her eyes and cheeks with the handkerchief then handed it back to Anna.

“The Duke of Weselton came here yesterday,” Elsa said.

Anna leaned closer.

“He did?  What did he say?”

“He brought food and water in exchange for all the best land in Arendelle.”

Anna gasped.  “He didn’t!”

Elsa nodded.

“Did you do it?”

“No, of course not.”

“Good,” Anna said, relieved.  “What did you do?”

Elsa paused, recalling the duke’s terrified expression as she unleashed her magically infused rebuke.

“I banished him from Arendelle and had Marshmallow throw him out.”

Anna tried to stifle a giggle but made a strange snorting sound instead.  Elsa laughed at this, which made Anna laugh, which only made them both laugh even harder.  Elsa dabbed at her eyes again, happy to have her sister back, but the levity was soon replaced by dark thoughts which chased away her smile.  She considered the possible consequences of her actions and the weight behind the duke’s accusation.  She had tried to push his words out of her mind, to not dwell on them, but no matter how hard she tried she could not avoid their torment.  She fixed Anna with a troubled gaze, and said, “Anna, do you think I could be the cause of this drought?”

Anna could not hide her surprise.

“Elsa, is that what this is all about?”

Now that it was out, now that her concern had been spoken aloud, she found it a bit easier to continue.  Having Anna there was like adding water to a flume, but with the flow of words came the flow of emotions and she had to take a deep breath to hold them back.

“Arendelle is the only kingdom suffering from this tragedy,” Elsa said.  “Suffering from this awful drought.  What if my magic is causing the people of Arendelle to suffer?  What if this is all my fault?”

She searched Anna’s eyes for confirmation of her fears, for the smallest hint that her words might be true, but Anna shook her head.

“Elsa, you’re magic is the most beautiful thing I have ever known.”

The words brought Elsa no comfort.  She thought about freezing the fjord during her coronation and striking Anna upon the North Mountain, and she couldn’t get little Anna’s cold, lifeless body out of her mind, recalling how she lay still upon the ballroom floor, nearly killed as a child by a wayward bolt of magic.  Tears welled in her eyes.

“My magic has only ever hurt the people I love.”

She had a long history of being the source of so much pain and misery, she thought.  She wanted to believe she had left that all behind after the Great Thaw, but something told her she was wrong.

She felt like she had a clamp on her heart and she struggled against a wall of emotion.  Her next words were slow in coming and it took great effort to form them.  They came out as a whisper.

“What if it’s true?”

“No,” Anna said, shaking her head again,  “No, Elsa, you can’t believe that.”

But she did believe that.  She believed because it had happened before and she believed it could happen again.  Her chest hitched as the wall of emotion grew.  She tried to stifle a sob but she could not hold back her tears.  It took all of her strength to speak her next words, but she forced herself to say them.

“Anna, what if I’m killing my people?”

She had barely finished the sentence before she collapsed into Anna’s arms and burst into tears.   Anna cradled her head and stroked her hair, unable to stifle her own tears.

Elsa didn’t notice the faint crackling sound, nor was she aware of the fuzzy sheen of ice which sprouted over her throne like crystalline moss.  It raced down the armrests and over the dais and onto the floor where it spread in every direction in a burst of white, star-like patterns.

“Elsa!” Anna cried out.  Elsa recoiled in horror, suddenly realizing what had happened. Anna’s eyes were wide with shock and her face and shoulders were covered in thick frost, her hair as stiff and cold as icicles.

Elsa leapt to her feet and backed away, shaking her head in disbelief, as if she had stumbled upon some terrible sight which defied possibility.  She had done it again, she thought, she had put her sister in danger.

Without another thought she turned and sprinted toward the door, running as fast as she could, each step leaving behind a small snowflake impression upon the stone-gray floor.

Anna leapt up, running after her, wiping the film of ice crystals from her face.

“Elsa, stop!”

But she didn’t stop.  She ran through the great hall and up the stairs, and she kept running until she reached her room where she threw herself inside, slamming the door behind her.  She heard the thump of Anna’s body upon the door, and her soft cries as she pounded on the white painted wood, begging for Elsa to let her in.

But she didn’t.  Instead, she put her back to the door and slid down until she was sitting, burying her face into her knees.  She heard Anna do the same, slumping to the floor in the hallway, and they sat back to back with only a cold slab of wood to separate them.

“Elsa,” Anna said, her voice muffled and wet with tears.  “It’s not your fault.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Where could they be?” Kristoff said, scratching his head in confusion. He was standing in the archway next to Olaf, and they were both looking at an empty throne room. Empty, that is, except for Marshmallow, who loomed ghostlike from behind the throne, his snowy hide glowing in the torchlight.

When Kristoff left, dragging Olaf out of the room, he had no idea how long they should stay away. He had never had a sister, or a girlfriend, or even a mother, for that matter, if you didn’t count the trolls who adopted him, so he had no idea how long a woman would need to recover from an emotional breakdown. He also had no idea where to go or what to do. His first thought was of Sven, as it often was, and he went with Olaf to the stables to fetch him; but they found him sleeping on a pile of hay so they let him be.

Sven was Kristoff’s closest companion, his best friend since he was a child whom he had done everything with. He also happened to be a reindeer.

Some people in Arendelle found it odd for a man to be so closely associated with a reindeer. As the official ice master and deliverer they often saw him on the streets of the city, delivering blocks of ice and chatting with it as if it were a workmate and not just a beast pulling his sleigh, and for Kristoff this was true. On more than one occasion he had heard a snicker, or saw someone point from behind a window and laugh with their companion. But it didn’t really bother him. It hadn’t bothered him when he was a young orphan roaming the mountains of Arendelle, selling ice to strangers, and it didn’t bother him now. If there was one thing he had learned during his life alone in the wilderness it was that people couldn’t be trusted, and he never valued the opinions of people he couldn’t trust.

Sven, on the other hand, he could trust with his life, and often had. They had spent the last few months together combing the countryside for some hidden reservoir of water. They hadn’t found any, but what they did find were the perils of mountain travel and the dangers of a rocky wasteland, and it was Sven who had helped get them through it all. This past expedition had been particularly difficult, so Kristoff was not surprised to find his friend passed out in a pile of hay, not even roused by the creak of the stable door.

So they had left Sven in the stable and gone down to the fjord. Kristoff sat on a boulder, unable to get the sound of Elsa’s sobbing out of his head. He showed Olaf how to skip rocks across the water to keep him busy, which was all well and good until he accidentally threw his stick arm in. When he tried to go after it Kristoff stopped him, fishing his lost member out with a long branch, and then thought it might be better if they went to the rose garden instead.

There, Kristoff suggested they play hide and seek and Olaf had thought it was a wonderful idea, running off to hide. Kristoff sat down on a bench, worrying about Elsa until Olaf reappeared some time later, proudly declaring himself the winner. Then they had come back to the castle, certain that the girls had had enough time to themselves, only to find the throne room empty, without a clue as to where they had gone.

They turned back to the hallway.

“I’m going to look for them,” Kristoff said. “Stay here in case they come back.”

“Ok!” Olaf replied, settling himself against the wall like a sentry in charge of guarding the throne.

Kristoff left him behind, trotting down the hall in a half run, half walk. He was worried, there was no doubt about that. He had never seen Elsa so upset, so visibly shaken, and he wondered what had happened to cause her so much distress. Obviously, the drought had taken its toll on her, but she had thus far weathered the nightmare of the past six months with remarkable endurance. Maybe she was finally succumbing to its pressure, or maybe something else had happened, he didn’t know. He only knew one thing, if it was bad enough to make Elsa cry then it was something they all needed to worry about.

Elsa was not the sort of person to cry on a whim, nor was she the sort to wear her emotions for all to see. In fact, in the year he had known her he had only ever seen her cry once, and that was when she thought Anna had died. She had struck Anna with her magic, an accident which had left her sister with ice in her heart, ice which would spread unless removed by an act of true love. But instead of trying to save her own life, Anna had thrown herself between Elsa and Hans’ sword, saving her from an assassin’s blade. She had turned to ice moments before Hans’ weapon struck, and the sword had shattered upon her frozen hand. Kristoff still had nightmares about that moment, watching the woman he was trying to save, the woman he loved, turn into a statue of ice.

Then Elsa had cried, weeping over her sister with indescribable grief, and how that sight had tugged at his heart. However, in a twist of fate it was Anna’s sacrifice, her own act of true love, that had saved her, thawing her heart and bringing her back to the waiting arms of her sister.

Kristoff had never seen Elsa cry since that time, not until now, and to think that she was once more experiencing pain on a level approaching the loss of her beloved sister crushed him. As bad as he felt about it, though, he knew it was a fraction of what Anna must be feeling.

All the more reason he had to find her.

He ran across the great hall and through a set of double doors, bounding up a spiral staircase to the next landing. He veered left and then took a sharp right, his hurried steps softened by the red carpet lining the corridor to Elsa’s room, and when he rounded the corner he saw what he was looking for. There was Anna, sleeping with her back propped against Elsa’s door and her head resting on the edge of the jam. One leg was drawn up, as if she had been curled in a ball before she fell asleep, and the other had slid forward, jutting out into the hallway. Her freckled cheeks glistened beneath a sheen of dried tears and he heaved a heavy sigh, realizing she had cried herself to sleep.

He had not been around during the days of Elsa’s isolation, but Anna had told him about it, how she had spent much of her childhood outside Elsa’s door wanting to see her and wondering why she had been shut out. It would not be until years later that she discovered the reason: Elsa’s struggle with powers she could not control. But after her coronation and after Anna’s sacrifice that had ceased to be an issue. So what was it that drove the two of them apart now? He wasn’t sure, but he knew this was no place for Anna to sleep.

He crouched, slipping one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, stifling a grunt as he pushed himself to his feet. As he cradled her in his arms he thought about the last time he had held her like this, after she had been struck by Elsa’s magic on the north mountain. That had been over a year ago, but the memory was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. He remembered her quivering lips which were fading to blue, the cold touch of her body as she shivered in his arms, slowly freezing as the ice in her heart spread. What he remembered most, though, was the concern in her eyes when she looked up at him and asked if he was going to be ok. She was dying in his arms, and all she could think about was if he was going to be alright.

To think that he had handed her over to Hans, the man who would try to murder her, sent a shiver through his bones. Of course, he hadn’t known better, but still, that memory was like ice in his own heart, ice which couldn’t be removed.

He rounded the corner, passing the stairs and turning down the opposite hall. Anna’s eyes fluttered open, and when she saw Kristoff she threw her arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder. He kissed her on top of the head.

When they arrived at her room he found her door slightly ajar, so he pushed it open with his foot and carried her to her bed, stepping over the clutter that lay spread across the floor. He lowered her to the mattress, removed her shoes and then knelt down beside her, one elbow resting on the bed as he stroked her red hair. Her eyes were closed and he wondered if she had fallen back asleep, but then they opened again and she smiled up at him. It was a pained smile, he thought, one that touched her lips but did not chase the sadness from her eyes.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

Her smile broadened, and this time it did reach her eyes. They flickered dimly in the torchlight cast from the hall.

“I’m ok,” she said. They sat in silence for a long time, staring at each other without speaking. Kristoff knew she had more to say but didn’t prod her. When she was ready she would talk. He didn’t have to wait long, though.

“I’m worried about Elsa,” she said.

Kristoff nodded. This he knew. Despite the fact that Elsa had overcome the struggle with her magic, Anna had never overcome her worry. It was like a worn out coat, one which you couldn't get rid of because it had become so comfortable, and Anna had spent a lifetime wearing it. Since the great thaw Elsa had found such worry sometimes charming and sometimes vexing, but always unnecessary. That, it would seem, was no longer the case.

Anna let out a sigh, then said, “She’s afraid that her magic is causing this horrible drought.”

“Is it?” Kristoff asked.

“Kristoff!” Anna’s worry transformed into a scowl.

“Well,” he said, shrugging, “the thought had crossed my mind.”

And it had, long before now. When the snow first disappeared from the mountains it was apparent to him that something unnatural was occurring, something beyond the realm of Mother Nature. Elsa had once buried the entire kingdom in an eternal winter, dooming her people and destroying his ice business, and she hadn’t even been aware that she had done it. It stood to reason that the opposite was also possible, instead of burying everything in snow she might be stripping the land of it, along with every other source of water. It was only a thought, a half-formed idea which had never completed its transformation into a belief. He would not pretend to understand Elsa’s magic or know how it worked, but the question was always there, lingering like a shadow in the back of his mind.

Anna let go of his hand and pushed it away, indignant at his admission.

“Elsa is not causing this drought!” she said. She was convinced of this, and he would choose to believe her. Although, if Elsa wasn’t sure of her part in it, how could any of them be?

“Ok,” he said.

He climbed to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed, propping himself on his hand as he leaned over her, studying her face. He didn’t often see her angry, she had no temper that he was aware of, and though she sometimes became flustered and frustrated, whether it was with him or Olaf or at something else, she was rarely mad. But when she was, her eyes would narrow and her lips would purse together, drawing her skin tight over her high cheekbones which made her freckles stand out like spots on a foal. Perhaps it was unkind of him to think so, but he thought she was beautiful when she was angry.

“So, if she’s not causing it, what is?” he asked, making sure the question came out as gentle as he intended it. Her anger left, replaced once again by worry and concern.

“I don’t know,” she said, staring at the curtains of her bed as if she might find the answer woven in their crimson fabric. She went silent for a while, introspective, and he was content to watch her as he waited for her to continue.

“She’s upset that she can’t throw us an engagement party,” she said at last.

That didn’t come as a surprise. Elsa had been under a tremendous amount of stress lately, and though she usually handled this well he could tell she was beginning to crack under the pressure, and who could blame her? So to be distraught over something as important as her sister’s engagement he understood.

Anna’s eyes closed and she lay still for a long while, the rhythmic song of her breath the only sound in the room. He thought she was asleep and was about to go, when she whispered, “I’m so worried about her.”

She opened her eyes and yawned.

“I don’t want to lose her again.”

That was the last thing she said. Her eyelids became too heavy and they slid shut, her arm falling to her side as she drifted off to sleep.

He touched her cheek with the back of his hand, feeling her warmth and reading the worry which remained in her expression even as she slept. He wanted to make everything better, to take away her pain and fear and make her happy again. He remembered when she used to be happy, when nothing could rob her of the smile that brightened not only his own heart, but seemed to shine throughout all of Arendelle. He supposed that his relentless search for water was driven as much by that smile, and the prospect of bringing it back, as it was by his desire to save the kingdom.

So far, it seemed to him that his efforts had been worthless. He had been searching the unforgiving wilderness for weeks without so much as a hint of water to be found. He felt helpless, useless, as if he could do nothing more than stand by and watch everything he loved melt like an ice sculpture in the sun. All he wanted to do was protect her and provide for her, to make her feel safe. There was a time when he thought he would be able do that, but now, now that was all slipping away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, then bent down and kissed her on the forehead. She stirred but did not awaken, and he grabbed a thick blanket from the back of a chair, unfurled it, and spread it over her slender form, tucking in the sides. Then he retreated to the door and stepped into the hallway, pausing before pulling it shut. He stole one last glance at her, just able to make out the line of her nose and the curve of her chin in the faint glow of the torchlight. He could have stayed there, lost in her beauty, but he was tired and longed for his bed.

“Good night, Anna,” he whispered, as he quietly closed the door.

* * *

Anna awoke to sunlight on her face, the warmth of its rays spilling through her window and splashing on her cheeks and left arm, which was slung over her eyes. She stretched, pushing against the headboard and pointing her toes, scratching the sleep out of her eyelashes as she yawned. She blinked against the morning light, wondering why the curtains had been left open, and tried to draw the covers off herself before she realized she had been sleeping on top of them.

Then she sat bolt upright, remembering.

“Elsa!”

She leapt out of bed, flinging the blanket aside and searching for her shoes. She couldn’t find them but she saw some slippers across the room, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she went to retrieve them. Her dress was rumpled and smudged with dirt, so she stripped it off and grabbed a new one from the chest at the foot of the bed, her head getting stuck in an arm hole in her haste to put it on. She corrected, cinched the tie about her waist, and pulled her slippers on before vaulting out the door. She ran down the hall, passed the stairs, and ended up standing before Elsa’s closed door, rapping on it with the back of her hand.

“Elsa?” she called out, but there was no answer. A maid must have heard the commotion because she peeked around the corner, like a rabbit’s head popping out of its hole.

“The queen is already in the throne room, dear.”

Anna took off, picking up her dress as she ran past the maid and down the spiral stairs. She hurried through the great hall and then bounded up the next flight of steps two at a time, sprinting down the passage which lead to the throne room and bursting through the archway before stopping short.

She hadn’t expected to find anyone else there.

* * *

Elsa knew it was Anna when she heard the flurry of feet echoing down the hall, so she was not surprised when her sister came tumbling into the room, holding her yellow dress off the floor as she skidded to a stop. She stood near the archway, her mouth open as if frozen mid-sentence and her dress half askew as if she had dressed in the dark. On another day, at another time, Elsa might have found such a thing amusing, but she was distracted by the grave task she had set herself to, and so there was no levity in her voice when she said, “Your slippers are on the wrong feet.”

Anna glanced down, but the comment didn’t seem to register. When she looked back up she was still wearing that same look of confusion, as if she had stepped through the door of her bedroom and found herself transported to the throne room by some uncanny power.

Elsa turned back to Tobias, the court recorder, who was seated at a desk beside her, leaning over a flat piece of parchment with fresh writing on it. But he wasn’t looking at his work, he was peering over the tops of his eyeglasses at Anna.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” he said, in a high squeaky voice that always made Elsa think of a person nursing a perpetual cold.

Tobias had served as the court recorder since his appointment by her father nearly 10 years ago. She found him to be a rather gruff and impatient man, often attending to his duties with a mild sense of inconvenience, as if it vexed him to perform his official function. Had Tobias always been so dour? She couldn’t remember. Perhaps the drought had eroded his good senses as it had so many of them. Either way, she had expected a certain level of unpleasantness to follow after she called him to the throne room, but, to her surprise, he was remarkably chipper, especially considering how early it was.

She hadn’t slept well that night and had risen at the first light of dawn, unable to wait for a more reasonable hour to do what she knew had to be done. She had cast the duke out of her kingdom, rejected him and his offer, and thus doomed her people to a miserable end. There was only one thing left to do, and she knew it, but still she had tried to convince herself to wait, telling herself to slow down and think things through. But she had dressed quickly, and as she had regarded herself in the mirror of her dressing room, twisting her hair into a bun and donning her gloves; she knew she could not wait any longer. Every minute that passed brought her kingdom one minute closer to annihilation. It was time for action; she had only hoped to have that action completed before anyone else woke up.

Elsa went to the window, crossing her arms as she gazed out at the dawn lit fjord.

“Read that last part back to me,” she said.

Tobias plunged the quill back into its container and stood up, adjusting the sash that bound his brown robe to his flabby frame. His wild black hair surrounded a pink, balding head and the tip of his bird-like nose twitched as he spoke.

“‘Your generosity is not without appreciation,’” he said, holding the parchment close to his face as if studying a map. “‘I deeply regret my actions and hope that you will accept my offer. I trust you understand the urgency of the situation and hope that we can anticipate a prompt response.’”

Elsa nodded, still looking out the window.

“Ok,” she said. “That’s good.”

Anna hopped forward, exchanging the slippers between her feet.

“Elsa, what are you doing?”

It sounded to Elsa more like a challenge than a question.

“Prepare the seal,” Elsa said.

Tobias folded the parchment in thirds and stuffed it inside a yellow envelope which he retrieved from the desk. Then he grabbed one end of a narrow stick that was roasting a red chunk of clayish material over a candle flame, like a pig on a spit, and pressed the heat softened end over the lip of the envelope, leaving behind a bubbly seal. Elsa came over, removed a ring from her right hand which bore an engraving of the royal seal of Arendelle, and pressed the face of it into the drying substance, leaving behind a perfect impression of the insignia.

“Elsa,” Anna said, horrified. “You can't!”

Another challenge, which Elsa chose to ignore. She had no desire to be dragged into an argument with her sister.

“Send our ship to deliver that as soon as possible,” Elsa said.

“Elsa,” Anna said, “that’s the last ship we have!”

Tobias looked at Anna, perhaps expecting Elsa to reconsider the question in light of the objection, but she gave no heed to Anna’s protest and remained firm in her resolve. He gave a bow with the envelope clutched to his chest.

“Very well, Your Majesty. The ship will be ready to depart later this morning.”

Then he left, giving Anna a final greeting as he passed, but her eyes were locked on Elsa, her body tense, her mouth open in mute disbelief. It was a mix of confusion and disappointment, and Elsa understood that look. She thought it was probably the same look she would have given herself had she been in Anna’s position just a few weeks ago; but that was before their situation had become so desperate, before their water had almost run out, before the duke and his accusations.

Still, it hadn’t been an easy decision. She had struggled through most of the night with what she had to do, tossing and turning and trying to come to terms with what it meant; but now that struggle was over. Now there was only understanding, like a wounded soldier who knows his arm must be taken and he has resolved to let it go.

“Why?” Anna asked. There was no anger in the question, only disapproval. Elsa went to the throne and sat down, folding her gloved hands into her lap.

“Anna, what choice do we have?”

“Choice? That’s not a choice, that’s surrender. You’re giving up, Elsa. You’re giving up on Arendelle. You’re giving up on your people!”

Elsa shot to her feet, stung by the accusation.

“What would you know about choices!” she said, more harshly than she intended, but Anna wasn’t fazed. In fact, her expression softened, resembling something like pity as she approached the throne.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, putting a hand on Elsa’s arm. Elsa recoiled and jerked her arm away.

“Don’t touch me!” she said. There was no anger in her voice, only concern, like a mother warning a child of danger, and yet she could see Anna’s pain at the rebuff. Elsa hated to see that look in her eyes, the look she had seen so many times during the years of their separation, the look of rejection. How easy it was to slip back into her old ways, she thought, to slip on her gloves and shun the ones she loved, trying to protect them. She wished she could stop the feelings which gave rise to her fears, the fears which let her magic bleed between the spaces of her soul, but she couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Elsa,” Anna said, pleading now, “please don’t do this. We can manage--”

“Manage? You think we can manage? Look around you. Arendelle is dying!”

“Yes, but we’ll find another way. We have to! Kristoff will find water, I know he will. It’s just a matter of time!”

“We’re out of time!” Elsa said, her exasperation mounting. “I don’t intend to stand here and do nothing while Arendelle wastes away!”

Anna’s expression didn’t change, and Elsa must have known that it wouldn’t. Anna always thought there was a way out, that every cloud had a silver lining and if you couldn’t find it it was only because you weren’t looking hard enough. But Elsa had been searching, they all had, there just didn’t seem to be a way out of this one.

“So you’ve made up your mind,” Anna said.

“Yes, I’ve made up my mind.”

Anna shook her head, her shoulders sagging as the full weight of her defeat bore down upon her. She stood in silence, simmering in her disappointment, and when she raised her eyes again they were filled with sadness.

“What would father say?”

The words struck Elsa hard, and she felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. It was one thing to be condemned by her sister, but imagining her father’s frown of disapproval seemed even worse. Their father had been a good king who had loved both his family and his people, and to think for even one moment that she was letting him down, that she was bringing shame to the family name by her failures, was a thought she could not bear.

“You have no idea what it’s like,” Elsa said, her voice reduced to a whisper, “to have all these people looking up to you. To have the burden of everyone’s expectations. To have to find the answer no matter how hard it is to find!”

“That’s not an answer,” Anna said. “You’re letting everyone down.”

Elsa bit her lip, hard, trying to restrain her emotions.

“I’d rather let them down than let them die.”

That dire pronouncement went unchallenged by Anna, but had she tried to refute it she would have had no time, for Alek burst into the room, startling both of them out of their melancholy.

“Your Majesty,” he said, breathing heavily as if he had run through the whole castle. “There are ships approaching.”

“Ships?” Elsa said, confused by Alek’s alarm. “What do you mean?”

“We spotted three ships in the fjord. They’re sailing end to end, very close to one another, almost like a line of war. I fear they may have ill intent.”

“What?” Elsa said. She rushed to the window with Anna and they arrived at the same time, standing shoulder to shoulder before the narrow opening which overlooked the harbor, but from this angle Elsa could not see the open waters beyond it. She pushed Anna aside and leaned out of the window, her waist supporting her body as she peered over battlements and between rooftop spires to see into the heart of the fjord.

“Careful!” Anna said, grabbing her sister’s arm. It took Elsa a moment to locate the ships but she didn’t have to strain to see them, three distant objects in the farthest reaches of the fjord, approaching Arendelle with haste.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“We don’t know,” Alek said. “They’re out of range of our spy glasses.”

She pulled herself back in, with a little help from Anna.

“Prepare the guard,” she said, “close the gates, and secure the portcullis, but do not alert the people. Not yet.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Alek left in as much of a hurry as he had arrived, running down the hall and shouting orders until his voice faded beyond earshot.

“Who could it be?” Anna said.

“I don’t know,” Elsa said, rattled by Alek’s concern. “You better go find Kristoff.”

Anna nodded and ran out of the room.

Elsa stood alone with her back to the window, considering the ships. Over the course of the drought there had been many ships which had visited Arendelle, most arriving to trade the goods they needed, but all of them had come alone. A lone ship appearing in the fjord was no cause for alarm, but three...why were there three? No one sends a trade delegation on three ships.

Her first thought was of the Duke. Had he returned with warships intent on invading Arendelle? She chastised herself for having treated him so harshly, knowing three ships full of soldiers could easily overpower her kingdom in its atrophied state. So, the question was, could she stop him with her magic? She had only ever used it offensively once, when the duke’s men had attacked her in her ice palace on the north mountain. They had come with snarls on their faces and crossbows in their hands and she had defended herself with a magic she was only just learning to control. She had struggled to defeat them, struggled against only two men, so how would she fare against three ships full of soldiers?

She looked up at Marshmallow who was keeping silent watch over the throne room. How many of him could she make, she wondered? Could she freeze the fjord again? She didn’t think so. The last time it happened she had no clue what she had done, much less how she had done it.

She turned back to the window, and this time she didn’t have to lean out very far to catch a glimpse of the approaching ships. They were getting closer and soon they would be within bowshot range. She had a vision of a hail of flaming arrows raining down upon her kingdom, setting everything alight until the entire city was engulfed in flames.

Footsteps caught her attention and she turned to see Kristoff and Anna running through the archway with Olaf following close behind.

“Who is it?” Kristoff called out. “Are they friendly?”

Elsa met them in the middle of the room.

“Kristoff, I want you to take Anna and Olaf and leave Arendelle.”

“What?” Anna said, her eyes wide with shock.

“And don’t come back,” Elsa continued, “not unless I give the signal.”

“Elsa!” Anna said, “I’m not leaving you!”

Kristoff looked between Elsa and Anna, and Elsa could tell he was torn by her command. Anna would likely have to be dragged kicking and screaming from the castle, but if they stayed they could be in grave danger. She would have sent all the people away if she could, but there wasn’t enough time for an evacuation, not to mention there was nowhere for them all to go. She would have to stay and try to protect them, but there was no reason for Kristoff and Anna to be put in harm’s way.

“Where are we supposed to go?” Kristoff asked.

“It doesn’t matter. Anywhere! Go back to your family, to the trolls.”

Kristoff hesitated, looking between Anna and Elsa, then to the window, and then back to Anna again.

“Kristoff, you need to leave,” Elsa said. “NOW!”

The urgency in her voice moved him to action and he grabbed Anna’s hand, pulling her towards the door, but she shook him off.

“No, Elsa! I’m not leaving without you!”

“Yes, you are,” Elsa said.

Just then Alek came running back into the room.

“We see their flag, Your Majesty,” he said. “The ships are flying under the banner of the Southern Isles.”

“What?” Elsa said, the breath going out of her all at once. It didn’t make sense, why would the Southern Isles have sent three ships to Arendelle?

The possibilities were endless, possibilities magnified by the complete lack of communication between the two countries. They hadn’t exchanged a word with the Southern Isles since Hans had been banished back to his homeland. She had assumed he had been acting alone, but it suddenly occurred to her that he could have been working under the blessing of his father, and if the king was behind his treachery then it was likely that no discipline had befallen him. That would explain why no letter of apology had ever arrived, no official declaration from the king denouncing the prince’s actions. Perhaps that was Hans sailing the foremost ship, she thought, returning to claim his ill gotten prize. What frightened her even more, though, was imagining a whole fleet of ships hiding behind the mountains, waiting for the tip of the spear to penetrate Arendelle before the rest of the invading force revealed itself.

“There’s something else,” Alek said, pausing, as if he didn’t know what to make of his own words.

“Yes?” Elsa said. “What is it?”

“They’re flying a white flag.”

Elsa stood staring at Alek, unable to process the meaning of the information. It was a contradiction of elements, a subversion of everything she understood. She didn’t know whether she should feel curious or afraid or suspicious and she ended up feeling all of them at once. She knew one thing, though. White flag or no, she would not be fooled into letting her guard down.

“Keep the men wary and ready,” she said, “but do not take any action unless I give the command.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Alek said, before leaving the room.

Olaf hopped to the window, standing on his tip toes to try to see what was causing so much fuss. Anna stared at Elsa, lips parted, eyes wide, waiting for an explanation that never came. She looked at Kristoff and then back to Elsa.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” Elsa said.


	4. Chapter 4

Elsa leaned out the window again to catch a glimpse of the three ships sailing toward her harbor. Anna, Kristoff, and Olaf were bunched up behind her, Anna to her left with her hand on her shoulder, trying to lift herself high enough to see over her head, and Kristoff and Olaf to her right.

The ships were not far off now, closing quickly and sailing in single file. A line of war, Alek had called it. She was no naval expert but she had heard the term and understood its meaning. Ships in battle would often sail in a single file line, ensuring that each ship would not interfere with the attacks of the other. If that was their purpose then she expected them to turn at any moment, baring their broadsides to prepare for a volley of projectiles, but they didn’t; they continued straight for the harbor as if they meant to dock. Even if that was their intention it brought her no comfort.

The vessels were close enough now that she could see the banner which bore the insignia of the Southern Isles, waving and rippling on the lead ship’s mast, and just above it a white flag tore at its flagpole, whipped into a frenzy by the fjord’s heavy winds. There was no mistaking the signal, whoever piloted the ships wanted her to believe they came in peace.

Elsa knew she had few defenses if it was a trap as most of the weapons in the armory had been depleted long ago, traded in exchange for food, water, and other essentials. Arendelle’s need had been great, and after emptying the treasuries they had turned to selling the castle’s furniture and furnishings. When those were gone they were left with few choices, either acquire the goods they needed or perish. As a result, Elsa had commanded that their weapons of defense be sold.

Her logic had seemed sound at the time, that swords and spears were of little use in combating starvation and dehydration. There were some who opposed her decision, saying that Arendelle would be left defenseless, however, she considered the threat of the drought to take precedence over the potential danger of some imagined force. The decision had seemed obvious then, but now, as she watched the encroachment of the ships upon her harbor, she wondered if she had made a mistake.

The ships slowed as they neared the sea gate and she could see the men upon the decks now, scurrying about as they pulled ropes and turned wheels, preparing to dock. They were dressed plainly, with white tops and dark trousers, and she squinted at them trying to tell if they wore the uniform of a solider. She didn’t think so, but at this distance she couldn't’ be sure.

Alek stood upon the dock with a dozen guards, he and half his men waiting to receive the approaching ships; but what were a dozen guards against so many? They were spread out along the edge of the harbor, a sparse line of men stretched from the town square to the end of the dock with Alek at its head. She wondered if they were as tense as she was. She knew they stood no chance against an assault if one came, and yet each one was ready to make a stand, to give their life to protect Arendelle, if need be. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

The first ship passed through the gate, its momentum arrested as it navigated the harbor and drifted toward the shore. It dropped anchor and came to a stop at the docks, and for a while nothing happened. Then a man appeared at the stern, a sailor who was decidedly not dressed like a soldier, and he engaged in an exchange with Alek, but Elsa was unable to hear what was being said. She studied their body language, looking for a sign of confrontation, such as defensive postures or erratic gestures, but neither man made any threatening moves.

“What are they saying?” Anna asked, pulling on Elsa’s shoulder.

“Shhh!” Elsa hissed.

While the man was negotiating with Alek, for that is what Elsa assumed they were doing, the other two ships arrived, gliding to a stop beside the first one. With all of them there Elsa half expected an army of men to begin pouring out of the ships, sending Alek and his men fleeing to the castle, but nothing of the sort happened. In fact, nothing happened at all. Everything was quiet and still as the two men completed their discussion. Then the man on the ship bent down, scooped a bundle of thick rope into his arms and threw it over the side, where it landed on the wood planks of the dock. One of Alek’s men picked it up, looping it around a mooring and tying it off before backing away. After that a wide gangplank was lowered and three men disembarked, walking single file down the ramp and onto the dock. The leader was tall and dressed in a uniform, indicating he was a dignitary of some sort, but the other two were indistinguishable from the other sailors. The three were stopped by Alek and two of his guards, and Alek gestured toward them and then pointed at the dock. Elsa wasn’t sure what he was saying but she could tell it wasn’t received well. The plainly clothed men tightened rank around their leader and appeared defiant, and the nearest of Alek’s men responded by gathering around their captain, hands on sword hilts.

“What’s going on?” Anna asked, her face hovering over Elsa’s shoulder.

“Hush!” Elsa said, nudging her back.

After some additional protest, the men unstrapped their swords and handed them over. One of the guards collected them, then Alek led them away from the docks and toward the castle, barking orders as they passed other guards. Six fell into formation behind them, following them to the castle, and the other five went down to the ships, taking up positions along the dock, presumably to keep an eye out for any treachery.

Elsa watched Alek lead the party along the docks and up the stairs, and once they entered the town square she pushed herself from the window and hurried to the throne, sitting down. Anna, Kristoff, and Olaf stared after her.

“Elsa,” Anna whispered, as if the men far below could hear her, “what do we do?”

“Stand behind the throne. Leave the negotiations to me. If things get dangerous Marshmallow will protect us.”

Anna and Kristoff exchanged a wary glance then rushed to the throne with Olaf, taking up stations behind it. Olaf could sense the intensity of the situation and he cowered behind Kristoff, forgetting his usual insistence on introducing visitors to the Queen.

There was a long delay as they waited for the arrival of the unexpected party, and Elsa had time to wonder about the intentions of the Southern Isles. She had found their lack of communication strange, if not foreboding. After sending Hans home as a prisoner she would have expected an apology of some sort, or at least an acknowledgement of his crimes, if not a full denunciation of them. But she had received nothing to indicate they felt any remorse over the trouble fomented in her kingdom. At one point she had considered sending a diplomat to re-establish ties, but then the drought started and politics became rather unimportant. She had sent a request for assistance to them, as she had to every neighboring kingdom, hoping they would take the opportunity to make amends, but they never responded. No offer of trade ever arrived, nor did she receive a letter explaining their refrain. So why had they come now?

She had considered the possibility of an unscrupulous kingdom coming to exploit Arendelle’s vulnerable state, taking advantage of its weakness to execute their own selfish agenda. If that was the Southern Isles’ intention then she was ill prepared. Without an army, a sufficient number of guards, or a stock of weapons, their only defense lay in her magic, but she shuddered at the thought of lashing out with her powers, even if it was to protect her own people. Could she live with herself if she did harm with her magic? Could she live with herself if she didn’t?

The throne room was as silent as a crypt, and Elsa could feel her blood thumping in her ears as she waited, unable to calm her beating heart. Then the silence was broken by the castle doors, the faint echo of their shutting sounding very distant, even though it wasn’t far away. After another long silence there was a shuffle of marching feet upon the stairs which continued down the hall toward the throne room. From the angle of her throne she could not see into the hall, and she was left to wonder who was out there, but more importantly, why they had come, a flurry of possibilities circling through her mind like a windstorm.

The march of feet stopped just outside the room leaving only the metallic click of a single set of boots and, as expected, Alek emerged through the archway. Elsa studied his face for a clue, some sign regarding the disposition of the visitors, but nothing betrayed his rigid expression.

“Your Majesty,” he said, his voice calm and bearing no hint of danger. “Prince John of the Southern Isles has come to seek an audience with the Queen of Arendelle.”

Elsa exchanged a glance with Anna, noticing she was just as surprised at the mention of a prince from the Southern Isles. Elsa wondered if Prince John would be any different from his treacherous brother.

“Do you suspect any ill intent?” Elsa asked.

“I cannot say with certainty, Your Majesty, but everything seems to be in order. They surrendered their weapons and I will be alerted if the men on the ships attempt to disembark.”

“Very well,” Elsa said. “Send him in, but do not lower your guard. I trust you’ll remain on high alert until I command otherwise.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said with a bow before disappearing into the hall. He exchanged some words with the men there, words she could not hear, and she waited with baited breath for him to return.

Alek came in first, followed by the men from the Southern Isles who were flanked by four guards, two on their left and two on their right.

When Elsa caught sight of the prince her blood ran cold. For a moment she thought it was Hans who had entered the room and her heart skipped a beat and the flesh of her arms and neck prickled with goose bumps. Unpleasant memories flashed up as she recalled the man who had proposed to Anna after her coronation, then locked her in a room to freeze to death while he sought to murder the new queen.

Even as she fought to suppress images of her would be assassin, she realized that this man wasn’t him, although it was obvious they were related. His face was characterized by the same bold, distinguished features as Hans: large, piercing eyes, a prominent chin, and a thick crop of auburn hair parted down the middle. He even dressed in a similar manner, wearing a white jacket decorated with medals and baring golden tassels that bounced on his shoulders with each step. His legs, clad in plain gray trousers, plunged into black boots at the knees.

Despite all the similarities, though, there were clear differences, too, the first being his trimmed sideburns. He also looked a little taller and older than his brother, had a large scar across his forehead above his right eye, and his jaw and chin were more squared than rounded.

Studying these disparities settled her nerves a bit, but she was still anxious over his unexpected visit. Perhaps he wasn’t Hans, but was he any better?

Alek raised his hand and the procession stopped halfway to the throne, the three newcomers standing in a row with the prince in the middle. The prince glanced over his shoulder at the guards behind them, then his attention was drawn to the giant snowman behind the throne. Elsa saw a glimmer of surprise flash over him but it was quickly suppressed, and she was unable to read anything else in his expression.

Alek stepped aside, making a sweeping gesture with his hand.

“Your Majesty, I present to you Prince John of the Southern Isles.”

“Your Majesty!” the prince said, dropping down to one knee and bowing his head, his companions following suit in one coordinated motion. It was an appropriate display of honor, but Elsa wondered how genuine it was. She motioned for them to rise and they did so, standing at attention while they waited for her to address them.

“Prince John,” Elsa said, trying to bury her unease beneath an air of authority, “your visit is quite unexpected. I apologize for not making you feel more welcome, but these are strange times and we are not on the best terms with the people of the Southern Isles, as I’m sure you are well aware.”

Prince John bowed low.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “I assure you that no apology is necessary. I am quite aware of the strain young Prince Hans put upon the relations between my kingdom and yours. His actions were reprehensible and I am ashamed to call him a brother. Please accept my apology and I hope that those events, tragic as they were, will not hinder a peaceful reception of myself and my men.”

“I appreciate your words,” she said, “but you did not sail three ships across the vast reaches of the sea to apologize for the actions of one rogue dignitary.”

“You’re quite correct, Your Majesty.”

“So then tell me, Prince John. Why have you come to Arendelle?”

Elsa studied him, looking for any indication that his next words would be less than truthful. However, she knew that if he was anything like his brother his skill in deception would exceed any scrutiny on her part. Alek seemed to be thinking the same thing, his hand not straying from the hilt of his sword.

“My kingdom has heard of the suffering of Arendelle,” Prince John said, “but not until recently was I informed of the full extent of its tragedy. I have come to you with three ships laden with as much food, water, and other provisions that I could safely pack aboard them. They are a gift to the people of Arendelle and their beautiful queen.”

Elsa was stunned, sitting stone-like in her throne. She had been anticipating the worst and this sudden reversal left her disoriented. She ran over his words again and again, certain she had misheard or misunderstood, but she hadn’t. There was a hush in the room as everyone waited for her response, but she was speechless, caught in the grip of utter shock as she tried to understand. Three ships full of food and water? Three ships full? How was that possible?

Over the past few weeks the drought had brought its full weight to bear upon her. It had become more apparent, with each passing day, that they may not be able to find a way out of this awful disaster. The fear had begun closing in upon her, tightening its grip, and when Kristoff and Anna returned, bringing news of another failed search, her last hope for salvation had faded away. For the first time she felt like they had run out of options, that there would be nothing that could stop the inevitable march of death which had been stalking them all. She felt like she had failed, the drought had won, and with no more options she had been overcome by its cruelty. The weight of that realization had crushed her like a rock, and she felt like she were suffocating under its pressure. But with John’s announcement that weight had been suddenly lifted and she could breathe again. She had been snatched back from the brink of despair.

She sat motionless, tears welling in her eyes. She pressed her fingers to her lips, waiting for the moment to pass, but it didn’t. She covered her mouth with her hand, trembling from the effort to hold it in, unable to speak.

Anna was watching her and must have understood her silence, for she stepped out from behind the throne and put a hand on Elsa’s shoulder.

“Arendelle is deeply grateful for this wonderful act of kindness,“ she said, doing her best to sound elegant and regal.

Elsa was relieved to have the attention taken off of her, and it was just what she needed to regain control. She looked at the man who stood before her and she no longer saw Hans looking back at her, or a threat of any kind. She saw not a stranger, but a friend.

“Thank you,” Elsa said, but the words were little more than a whisper. She took a deep breath to steady herself, cleared her throat, and said again, “Thank you.”

“It is my great honor,” John said, with a bow.

Elsa gave a nod to Alek who then motioned to his men, and they retreated from behind John and his companions, standing aside. John appeared to relax now that the threat of a sword was no longer at his back.

Elsa stood up, brushing her hands down the front of her dress.

“Allow me to introduce ourselves,” she said, grabbing Anna by the arm. “This is my sister, Anna, the princess of Arendelle.”

Anna gave an excited wave and John waved back, smiling.

Elsa turned to Kristoff, who was still standing behind the throne, his head and shoulders visible above the spiky ridges of the backrest.

“This is Kristoff, my sister’s fiancée,” she said, motioning to him.

Kirstoff seemed caught off guard by the introduction and he looked to Anna, as if unsure how to respond, but she gave him no direction. After a long pause he settled on a respectful nod.

“Hello!” John replied, as if greeting an old friend.

“And last but not least, this is Olaf,” Elsa said, gesturing for Olaf to come forward. He was barely visible, peeking out from behind the throne, but sensing the change of atmosphere he came bounding out into open view, his twig arms spread open wide.

“Hi, I’m Olaf, and I like warm hugs!”

John was astounded.

“So, the stories are true!” he said, getting down on one knee to examine the snowman.

It had been a long time since anyone had looked at Olaf like that, Elsa thought, with the wonder and fascination of seeing such a creature for the first time. Most of the dignitaries who visited tried to hide their surprise at meeting a walking, talking snowman, or at least censured their reaction, but not John. He had the wide eyes of a curious child.

“Spectacular!” he said, examining him for a few moments more before standing back up. “Simply amazing!”

He pointed at Marshmallow in the corner.

“And that one there, is that one...alive, too?”

Elsa smiled and nodded, glancing over her shoulder at the silent guardian who towered over them. Marshmallow was a fearsome sight, there was no doubt, but John’s face bore no hint of fear, his mouth open and his eyes wide with awe as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Just fantastic!” he said, staring at the giant snowman for a while longer before looking back at Elsa, his awe replaced by admiration. He seemed to be lost in thought, his gaze lingering upon her without words, like he had lost all track of time or place. Then he came to his senses, as if snapping out of a daydream.

“Oh, excuse me!” he said, “Where are my manners?”

He directed his attention to his two companions who had stood silent and expressionless since they had arrived.

“This is Erik and Lars, my most trusted advisors. I’m afraid you’ll find them to be quite a bore to have around, though, nothing like your fine companions, I’m sure.” He gestured to the men. “Say hello boys!”

They didn’t respond. John frowned with mock disdain.

“See what I mean?”

“What happened to Hans?” Anna blurted out.

John, his attempt at levity foiled, became serious, and the entire room descended into silence. Kristoff came around and stood by Anna, grabbing her hand in his, but her attention was fixed on John, awaiting his response.

“Anna, is it?” John said.

Anna nodded, and he paused, taking a deep breath as if giving careful consideration to his next words, which he delivered without emotion.

“I’m sorry to report to you that Hans is dead.”

“What?” Elsa exclaimed, letting go of Anna’s arm.

“What happened?” Anna asked. Elsa glanced at her, wondering if she felt as conflicted as she sounded. No one had been affected by Hans’ treachery more than Anna, and Elsa wouldn’t have been surprised if she heard relief or satisfaction in Anna’s voice, but she didn’t. Beneath a layer of morbid curiosity Elsa detected a hint of concern, not so much that it was obvious, but it was there. Elsa, for her part, was relieved to know that Hans would never again be a threat to any of them, but she found the news disturbing at the same time. Kristoff, however, appeared unruffled by it.

John loosened his gloves one finger at a time and pulled them off, holding them in one hand and gripping his wrist with the other.

“When Hans returned to the Southern Isles,” he said, “he was tried as a traitor, charged with an unauthorized act of war against an allied kingdom. Sentenced to ten years hard labor he was to be transferred to a penal colony on one of the islands in our realm.”

He paused, his eyes going from Kristoff, to Elsa, and back to Anna again, as if to gauge their interest.

“He never made it,” he said.

“What?” Elsa said. “Why not?”

“The ship he was being transported on ran into a storm and the entire ship was lost. There were no survivors.”

“Oh my!” Anna said, raising a hand to her mouth, and there was no doubt she found these details disturbing. Kristoff only raised an eyebrow.

Elsa, though, wasn’t sure how she felt about Hans’ passing. On the one hand, Hans had committed horrible crimes, acts so despicable they deserved the harshest punishment. On the other hand, it brought her no joy to know he had been killed in such a tragic manner. It made her think of her parents, how frightened they must have been when their ship was overwhelmed by the storm which would claim their lives. It was an all too familiar thought, one she had contemplated many times, to her dismay, and she did not welcome it back now.

She realized that she and John had this in common, they had both lost family to the dangers of the sea, and although he had related the story in a factual manner, as if it were a stranger’s tale and not a brother’s, she imagined there must be more to it, and her heart went out to him.

“Prince John…” she began, but he interrupted her.

“Please, just John.”

“Alright, then. John. I am very sorry for your loss. Hans may have acted imprudently but he was still your brother.”

“Half-brother, actually,” he said, as if he were ashamed of the relation, and maybe he was, Elsa thought. “Perhaps he didn’t deserve to die,” John continued, “but he put himself in that situation. He disgraced the royal family of the Southern Isles. It is my hope that this gift will in some small way restore a measure of honor to my family’s name.”

Elsa made a small curtsy.

“Your generosity is a testament to the good of you and your people. How can I possibly hold any malice after such an incredible act of kindness? Arendelle is truly in your debt.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said, with a bow.

“You may call me Elsa,” she said, the faintest of smiles crossing her lips.


	5. Chapter 5

Elsa went to the window of the throne room and peered down at the three ships docked in her harbor.  She felt a twinge of relief at seeing them, felt the release of tension which had built up in her neck and shoulders, and for the first time in a long time she felt like smiling.  They had not received a ship which had carried with it good news, not for a long time, and it made her realize how much she missed this.

Arendelle had always been a vibrant kingdom busy with trade, and it was not uncommon to look out over the fjord at any given time and see the brown dot of an approaching vessel.  As a child, she had always looked forward to these visits, for it usually meant a new gift from her father.  In the evening, just after supper, he would call herself and Anna to him and present them with something he had received from the traveling merchants, a toy or a treat or some exotic contraption that would fill them with wonder.  That sense of anticipation had carried on into adulthood, and after becoming queen she had still looked forward to these visits.

Until the drought, that is.

After the drought these merchants had lost most of their luster, becoming a necessary evil as they dismantled Arendelle bit by bit in return for the most basic of needs.  They had left her feeling empty and hopeless, and she had lost all the joy she had once known.  So now, she was happy to feel the tickle of excitement again as she wondered what John and his men had delivered.

The possibilities were endless as the ships were large, larger than most that frequented Arendelle.  They had tall, proud masts bearing multiple sails which stretched out like the untouched canvas of some giant artist.  The decks were set high above the water with the bottoms sinking deep beneath the surface of the fjord, meaning lots of room for cargo.  It was hard to imagine that each of those ships were full of supplies.   _Full_.  She tried to guess how many barrels and crates could be hidden within the belly of those massive beasts, and she shook her head at the impossibility of it.

But she had little time to dwell on this.  As her eyes strayed from the ships to the dock she noticed that the guards there were taut with suspicion, standing in a protective line, many with their hands on the hilts of their sword ready to defend Arendelle against an attack.  They were on edge, set like a bear trap in which the slightest pressure could release them, and her heart skipped a beat at the notion.  She spun away from the window to address their captain.

“Alek, please take your men and help unload those ships.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Alek said, motioning for two other guards to follow as he left the room.  After they had gone, John stepped forward.

“Thank you, Your Maje…”

He interrupted himself as he put his gloves back on.

“Thank you, Elsa.”

Elsa smiled.  This man had sailed three ships across the vast reaches of the sea to deliver a gift, and he was thanking her?

“It is the least I can do,” she said, and for the first time she looked at him, really looked at him, studying him with an eye she had lacked until that moment.  When he arrived he had been an unknown, a potential threat, a man not to be trusted and she hadn’t really been looking at him, but through him, trying to find the layer of deceit that she was sure must lay hidden beneath his official presentation.  But now that that was gone she was able to examine him without prejudice.

He was a handsome man, that was true enough, ruddy in appearance with thick auburn hair and steel blue eyes, a strong chin, and a square jawline that framed a face which bore a welcoming smile.  Although there was a resemblance to his brother, he shared many of his physical traits, he no longer reminded her of Hans.  John’s generosity set him so far apart from his disgraced brother that it was hard to even imagine they were members of the same family.

A quiet settled over the room as Elsa got lost in her thoughts, and she only became aware that she was staring when John cleared his throat, in a somewhat nervous fashion.

“Well,” he said, “there’s lots of work to be done...we might as well get to it.”

He and his companions bowed before turning and leaving through the archway.  Elsa, Anna, and Kristoff waited until their footsteps shrank into silence, then Anna turned toward her sister.

“Oh..my...GOODNESS!” Anna said, embracing her.  “I can’t believe it!  See, I told you it would work out, didn’t I?”

She fixed Elsa with a mischievous grin.

“And did you see the way he looked at you?”

Elsa felt the heat of a blush rising in her cheeks.

“No, I didn’t notice anything,” she said, turning away.

Kristoff joined Olaf by the window and watched the men far below.  He had a stern look of disapproval, but neither Elsa nor Anna noticed this as he gazed down at the boats through squinted eyes.  Had they noticed they might not have thought anything about it as they were too occupied with their own thoughts, thoughts which did not include a dire appraisal of the situation.  Therefore, they were both surprised when Kristoff, still looking out the window, said:  “We can’t trust him, you know.”

Elsa turned, meaning to object, but Anna beat her to it.

“Kristoff, what are you talking about?”

He put his back to the window and gave Anna a look.  It was a look Elsa had seen on Kristoff many times, the look of a man who thought his conclusion was obvious and was unable to understand how anyone else could miss it.

He and Anna had differed on many viewpoints over the past year or so, and the subject of trusting people was no exception.  He had often said that Anna needed to be more wary of people, especially those whose motives are unclear, and that she shouldn’t allow strangers to get too close until they could prove themselves trustworthy.  During these conversations Kristoff never mentioned Hans, but no doubt he considered that the foremost example which supported his argument.  Anna countered that you can’t go around mistrusting everyone just because there are a few bad apples out there.  They had tried to drag Elsa into this argument on more than one occasion, but she had no desire to arbitrate their discussions.  Personally, she found the truth to be somewhere in the middle, between trusting nobody and trusting everybody, but she kept that to herself.

“Anna,” Kristoff said, “since when do we trust any prince from the Southern Isles?”

“That’s not fair,” Anna said, crossing her arms.  “Prince John is not Hans.”

“I didn’t say that he was, but I think we can all agree that you’re not the best judge of character.”

Anna stared at him in stunned disbelief.  Kristoff gave her an apologetic shrug.

“Well…” he said, “you’re really not.”

Anna turned to Elsa, her eyes imploring her for support, but Elsa was not going to let herself be dragged into this argument either.  Kristoff may have a point, but she wasn’t going to take sides against her sister.

“What?” she said, feigning ignorance.

“Tell him we can trust John!”

Elsa could feel her neutrality being whittled away as they both waited for her response, Anna with her hands on her hips, upset at having her judgement called into question, and Kristoff with his expressionless stare, confident she would take his side.

She felt torn, though.  On the one hand, none of them really knew anything about John, having just met him, but on the other hand, simply being a brother of Hans was no reason to cast him off.

She turned her back on them, crossing her arms and cupping her elbows as she slowly walked across the room.  She wasn’t sure what to think or whose side to choose, and she didn’t like the sense of confusion that was creeping around her.

“Elsa,” Kristoff said, “think about it.  This guy arrives out of the blue, from who knows where, to supposedly rescue your kingdom.  But we don’t know anything about him.  He could be anyone from anywhere.  Have you thought about that?  Who’s to say he’s even from the Southern Isles?  Even if he is who he says he is, if he is Hans’ brother, then that’s even more reason not to trust him!”

Elsa stopped before her throne and stood staring at it, considering what Kristoff was saying.  Could there be any truth to his words, she wondered?  If so, then Arendelle could be in grave danger; but she found it difficult to imagine that someone who was intent on doing harm to her kingdom would go so far out of their way to help save it.

“I don’t see any reason not to trust him,” she said.  “He didn’t have to bring all of this food and water to us.”

“Elsa,” Kristoff said, exasperated.  “Have you so quickly forgotten what Hans did in Arendelle?”

Elsa whirled on him.

“Of course not!”

She resented the suggestion.  The protection of her kingdom and her people was her foremost concern, her very reason for existence, and to suggest that she was some gullible fool who could be tricked into jeopardizing Arendelle stirred her anger.

Kristoff must have detected this for he softened his tone before continuing.

“Think about it,” he said, “Hans took care of the people of Arendelle and even saved you from the duke’s men, but his plan all along was to kill both you and Anna and steal the throne.  If this man is who he says he is, then he’s a brother of Hans, and who’s to say he’s not here to do the same thing?”

Elsa’s anger cooled and she paused, realizing there was truth to Kristoff’s words.  Hans had fooled everyone with his charade, gaining everyone’s trust, including her own.  She recalled the last thing she had said to him, just before he had revealed his true intentions and tried to kill her.  ‘ _Take care of my sister’,_ she had asked him _._  The words echoed in her mind and she shut her eyes, trying to stop them.  The memory was a painful one.  She had asked a murderous, conniving traitor to take care of Anna, and she shuddered to think what might have been.

That had been a mistake, but was Kristoff’s reasoning sound?  Could she be making the same mistake here?  There was cause for caution, no doubt, but they had no good reason to think that John was here to do anyone harm, and she would not begin to mistrust him until she had a sound reason to do so.  Being related to Hans was not enough, not after such an incredible display of kindness and generosity.

“I understand your concern,” Elsa said, “but I will not repay kindness with accusations and suspicion.  Until I have a good reason to believe otherwise, Prince John will remain a friend of Arendelle and we will all treat him as such.  Is that understood?”

Kristoff lowered his head, shaking it from side to side.  When he looked back up his eyes were framed with disappointment.

“Please Elsa, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

His resistance to her command did not anger her.  Kristoff’s intentions were good, she knew that, but he also had a penchant for mistrusting anyone who did not come within his very small and exclusive circle of friends.

“As I said, I appreciate your concern, but I do not have the luxury of mistrusting every stranger who comes to Arendelle to offer help.”

Kristoff stared at her for a long time, as if he were trying to judge the firmness of her resolve, then he turned to Anna.

“I’m going to help unload the ships,” he said.  It was a statement which did not invite a response, and no one offered a reply.  Anna glanced at Elsa, her excitement gone, and the girls watched as he sulked out of the room and disappeared down the hall.

“Wait for me!” Olaf cried out, hurrying after him.

After they were gone Elsa went to the window and Anna joined her, and they watched as the men prepared the ships for unloading.  Many of Alek’s guards had joined John’s men and they scurried about the docks, opening large, two-doored hatches that led down into the bellies of the ships.  The barrels were lifted through these hatches, secured by a rope and pulley system, and were loaded onto carts to be transferred to the cellar of the castle.  A line of men ferried them like a parade of marching ants, some leaving with a full cart and others returning for more, over and over again, and yet the stream of containers never seemed to end.

Elsa wondered how long such an enormous infusion of goods could last, and how much time they would give her to find her own water; but the numbers defied calculation.  She shook her head in disbelief.  How had this happened?  How had this man just appeared out of thin air and offered three ships full of supplies without a thought of compensation for his trouble?  It was not a simple task, for it must have taken a tremendous amount of work to load those ships, and what’s more, sailing could be a dangerous occupation; after all, her own parents had been killed when their ship went down at sea over four years ago.  So what kind of man goes through all that trouble and takes that much risk without a thought for himself?

Could he truly have ulterior motives, Elsa wondered?  It was a question she didn’t like asking, as if contemplating such suspicion were in itself a sign of ingratitude, but it had to be considered, it was her job to consider it.  She _was_ grateful for such a wonderful gift, but still, Kristoff had planted a seed of doubt and she could not uproot it.  It took considerable effort to turn her thoughts away from this, but turn them she would.  Until they had more evidence, well, any evidence at all really, she would not dwell on such misgivings.

The girls remained at the window for most of the morning before breaking away to care for other duties.  Elsa conferred with her staff to prepare rooms for John and his men, and it was decided that the mostly empty guards’ barracks would be best suited to accommodate them.  While Elsa worked with the castle staff to prepare these quarters, Anna joined the other servants in putting together a simple meal for the unexpected guests.  It was served in the courtyard at noon, after which the men returned to their work.

In the late afternoon Elsa and Anna returned to the throne room to watch again.  The sun was completing its daily march toward the fjord and the shadows of the masts were growing longer as they stretched across the dock and reached for the town square.  By this time Alek had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.  He was outperforming most of his guards as they loaded up the carts, and his efforts were exceeded only by Kristoff’s tireless pace.  Kristoff seemed to be running behind his cart as he passed other men on the dock, disappearing into the courtyard before returning for another load.  Olaf helped where he could, but he mostly dashed and darted between the men, none of which paid him any attention now that their initial shock at seeing a magical snowman had worn off.

As the sun dipped down behind the fjord it seemed like the ship’s cargo holds would never empty, but the stream of men did slow, tapering off until there was only a trickle of workers making their way back and forth from the castle.  Anna left to go find Kristoff and Elsa took a seat on her throne, silently contemplating the day as a servant arrived to light the lanterns and candles.

How had things changed so rapidly, she wondered?  She felt such a sense of relief, as if the entire world had been lifted off her shoulders.  For the first time in many weeks she would be able to face her people with pride and dignity, without being reminded of how much she was failing them.  She knew she could not rely on the kindness of strangers to continue to provide for her people, though.  Eventually, they would have to find a way out of this cursed drought, but until then they could enjoy a temporary reprieve from its effects.

She was lost in her thoughts and wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Olaf came bounding through the archway, his arms held wide and a smile stretched over his face.  She could tell he had enjoyed the day’s activity, in fact, she imagined they all had.  It was nice to have something to distract them from the perils of the drought.  He hurried over to her and gave a bow.

“Queen Elsa,” he said, with a tinge of excitement.  “Prince John is here to see you.”

“What?” she said, surprised by the news.  What was John doing here, she wondered?  She hadn’t expected to see him again today, but she was by no means going to refuse his company.  She sat up straight, pulled her shoulders back, and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress.  “Yes, of course.  Send him in.”

Olaf bounded back out the archway and a few moments later John entered the room, accompanied by two of her guards, and they all stopped just inside the entrance.

John looked like a different man from the one she had met that morning.  His hair was wet from what must have been a recent bath, and he was dressed in an outfit that made him look more like a commoner, a well-dressed commoner, to be sure, but it was a far cry from the prince’s uniform she had met him in.  His shirt was of the button up variety, dark blue with ruffles around the cuffs.  His breeches were white and cinched with a black belt, and gone were his boots, replaced by black shoes, each topped with a golden buckle.  He held a roll of paper which was bound by a yellow ribbon, and when Elsa saw it her heart skipped a beat.  Was this the moment she would discover John’s true motive, she wondered?

“Welcome,” she said.

“Thank you.”  John said, nodding respectfully.  Elsa waved him forward and he approached, leaving the guards by the archway.  He stopped a few paces before the throne.

“I took the liberty of drawing a bath with some of the water we delivered.  I couldn’t bear the thought of being in Your Majesty’s presence while smelling like a three-day-old fish.”

Elsa smiled, trying not to appear uneasy, but she was nervous and she wasn’t sure why.  Perhaps it was her doubt about John’s motives, she thought.  Whatever the case, she tried to conceal her apprehension behind the smile.

“You would be welcome here regardless of your stench,” she said, then flinched at the poor attempt at humor.  She had meant to put him at ease, not insult him.  John, though, didn’t seem to mind.  He smiled, then motioned toward a tall backed chair set against the wall.

“May I?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

He grabbed the heavy chair and dragged it across the stone floor, its wooden legs sounding their defiance until it came to a rest barely more than an arm’s length away.  He did not sit beside her, but instead gave the chair a quarter turn, as if he meant to collaborate on some project.  He accidentally kicked the side of her foot as he sat down and she drew it away, crossing her ankles.

“Sorry,” he said, withdrawing his own feet, then he held out the roll of paper.

Elsa looked at it and paused, her breath catching.  She took it with trembling hand.

“Thank you,” she said, not sure if she meant it.  It was more of a formality than an expression of gratitude, for she had no idea what the papers contained.  She kept hearing the Duke’s sneering voice as he said ‘ _Sign these deeds over to me and everything on my ship is yours._ ’

Whether John detected her doubts she did not know, but something moved him to announce their contents to her.

“The ship’s manifests,” he said, leaning back in his chair.  “Everything we delivered is in those papers.”

Elsa felt a wave of relief wash over her, and only then did she realize she had been holding her breath.  She slid the ribbon off the end and unfolded the papers, holding them up so the candlelight could illuminate them.  John watched closely as she flipped from page to page, examining their contents.

The first few pages listed only barrels of water, and as she scanned the pages she tried to make a mental note of how many there were, but she lost count on the third page.  On the fifth and sixth pages were a variety of foodstuffs: cheeses, crackers, cured meats, and fruits and vegetables which wouldn’t spoil quickly, such as apples and carrots.

A smile crossed her lips when she thought of Sven finally getting a taste of a carrot after going without for so long.  He had been one grumpy reindeer when his favorite snack was no longer available, putting on quite a pout and giving Kristoff the cold shoulder for nearly two weeks.  Kristoff had tried to appease him with other treats, even offering him items from his own meager rations, but Sven would have none of it.  Eventually Sven got over it, but she knew Kristoff would be delighted to surprise him with a fresh carrot or two.

The next page of the manifest contained tools and cleaning supplies, such as lye and scented soaps, along with things they would need for basic repairs and upkeep of the castle.  The last page, which only contained a few line items, were all of assorted wines.

Elsa looked up, and her astonishment must have been obvious because John grinned.

“This is incredible,” she said.  “This will last us for weeks!”

“Good!” John said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.  He laced his fingers together and his expression became serious.  “If it is within my power I will do whatever I can to help save Arendelle from this drought.  But tell me, how bad is it?”

She rolled the papers up and secured them with the ribbon, setting them on the armrest of the throne.  She paused for a long while, trying to decide how much to tell him.  She couldn’t explain it, but she felt like she could trust him, and yet she couldn’t shake the words of warning that Kristoff had given her.  Was his the voice of reason?  Was she being blinded by her own gratitude?

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said at last, meeting his stormy blue eyes which seemed to express genuine interest.  “When it first started, early in the spring, we thought it was just a stretch of bad luck, but then all the water disappeared, from everywhere.  During the heat of the summer things got really desperate and we had to trade away almost everything of value just to get water and the other provisions we needed.  Any resident who had somewhere else to go fled, leaving behind the rest of the people to bear the brunt of the suffering.  We’ve been searching the surrounding wilderness for water, but so far we’ve been unsuccessful.  I don’t know how much longer Arendelle would have lasted if you hadn’t arrived.”

John nodded and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head.  He was silent, his eyes straying to the ceiling for a time before returning to Elsa.

“And you have no idea what’s causing it?” he asked.

Elsa shifted uncomfortably in the throne and looked down at her hands.  John was watching her but she was unable to return his piercing gaze.  She felt like his eyes were burning through her, as if he could see right into her and detect the truth she didn’t want to share.

“None at all,” she said at last.

John relaxed, leaning on the armrest.

“Well,” he said, “you have had to dwell on this tragedy for long enough.  How about a little something to take your mind off the matter?”

Elsa had no idea what he was talking about, but John gave a nod toward the archway.  She looked to see Olaf waiting at the entrance with a strange man, one she didn’t recognize.  He was holding a small, folded up table in one hand and a wicker basket in the other.  She looked back at John, confused.

“May he enter?” John asked.

Elsa hesitated, then nodded.

“Yes, of course.”

John waved him over and he approached as bidden, setting the basket down by his feet.  Then he unfolded the legs of the small table and set it before them.  He bent down and extracted a tablecloth from the basket, a red and white checkered napery which he draped over the table.  He returned to the basket once more to produce a dark bottle and two plain, silver goblets, setting them on the table.  Then, without a word, he picked up the basket and followed Olaf out of the room.

“How long has it been since you’ve had the taste of wine on your lips?” John asked, picking up the bottle.  Elsa frowned.

“How can I drink wine when my people are suffering?”  She sat back in her throne and stared up at the ceiling.  She had no right to enjoy herself, she thought, not while her people were in such dire straits.

“Elsa,” John said, ignoring her protests as he uncorked the bottle of wine and poured some into her cup.  “Your people are going to be fine.”

After filling hers he poured some into his own, then squeezed the cork back into the bottle and set it on the floor.  They sat in silence, and Elsa could feel his eyes upon her, as if he were studying her.

“Do you know what your problem is?” he asked after a moment of reflection.  The question was a gentle one, without accusation, but she gave no response.

“You spend so much time thinking about everyone else that you forget about yourself.  Elsa, if you don’t take care of yourself how are you going to take care of your people?”

She lifted her head at this and looked at him, momentarily ignoring the cup he was holding out to her.

There was a fundamental truth to his logic, she thought, a soundness of reasoning that struck her.  It had nothing to do with the wine, she just realized that all her long days and sleepless nights were taking their toll on her.  Of course, it was her responsibility to address the issues which brought her so much distress, but what he said made sense.  If she didn’t take time to renew herself, what good would she be to her people?

Still, she hesitated, looking between the wine and John, but his eyes never wavered from hers as he waited.  Eventually she took it, grabbing the cup by the stem and steadying it with her other hand.  John picked up his own cup and held it aloft, waiting, and she responded by pressing the edge of her cup to his in a toast.  She had never done that before, never shared in a toast with anyone, and she found it to be a curious custom.

It was odd for such a simple act to feel so strange, to be unsure about a tradition which most people took for granted, but here she was, awkwardly clinking cups with a prince she had never met before today.

John withdrew his cup and held it high.

“To your people,” he said.  “May they forever be blessed with such a wise and beautiful queen.”

Elsa felt the heat of a blush rushing to her cheeks and she hurried the cup to her lips to conceal it.  The wine was dark purple in color, and when she took a sip she was struck by the sweetness of its flavor, which was followed by a tang which made her jaws ache.

She hadn’t drank much wine, had never had the opportunity to; in fact, the first time she had ever tried it was at her coronation.  As the newly installed queen it was her duty to have the first drink of wine before everyone else would be served.  She had found it both bitter and sour, and she had spent the next 20 minutes ruminating crackers trying to get the taste out of her mouth.  She had decided at that moment that she didn’t like wine and had passed on the beverage at every other opportunity.  But this was different.  The flavor was sweet and the aroma pleasant, and the aftertaste which lingered on her lips seemed even better than her initial sip, so she took another.  John was watching with eyebrows raised, awaiting her judgment.

“And...how is it?”

“It’s good!” she said.

John smiled and they sat in quiet reflection, enjoying their drink together, but it didn’t take long before her thoughts strayed toward Kristoff’s warning.  John seemed like a decent fellow, but there was that gnawing sensation in the back of her mind, a subtle prodding that she was making a mistake by becoming friends with this man whom she knew nothing about.

She set her wine down and cleared her throat.

“Kristoff doesn’t think I should trust you.”

She was sure the statement sounded as abrupt as it felt, but she didn’t know a subtle way to broach the subject.  She waited for John’s reaction, but it never came.  He finished sipping his wine and then watched it swirl as he swished it around in his cup.  Finally, he put it down and looked up at her.

“Is that your sister’s fiancee?”

Elsa nodded and John paused, appearing to mull his words carefully.

“Is he a good man?”

Elsa was nervous again, and she put her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling.

“She could never find anyone better.  They deserve much more than what I can give them.”

“What do you mean?”

“They just got engaged.  It’s the most important event in their lives and I can’t even celebrate it for them.”

“Because of the drought?”

“Yes.”

John considered this, his eyes squinting and his lips pursing, then he sat up straight and took a deep breath.

“Well, I can’t say that I blame this...Kristoff, was it?”

Elsa nodded.  John picked up his wine but did not drink.  He was staring at the wall as if lost in thought, then his gaze returned to Elsa.

“Arendelle has had a spot of bad luck with princes from the Southern Isles,” he said.  “I doubt I can say anything that will change his mind.  Hopefully, my actions will speak for themselves.”

Elsa gave a slow nod and picked up her wine too, taking a sip.  She looked over the rim at John before lowering her hands to her lap, her fingers playing over the surface of the cup as she nervously turned it round and round.

“He wonders if there’s even a Prince John of the Southern Isles at all.”

She was not able to meet John’s gaze and sat staring at her goblet, her breath coming in short, nervous puffs, which she tried to hide.  John set his wine down again and studied her.  She could feel his eyes upon her, probing her, probably trying to determine the seriousness of her doubts.  She felt heat rising to her cheeks again, but she didn’t know if it was the wine doing that or her own jittering emotions.  She waited, not sure what to expect; an angry outburst perhaps?  However, when he spoke he didn’t sound angry at all.

“No doubt your kingdom keeps records of all the royal birth announcements.  Check your archives, hopefully that will be enough to put your mind at rest.”

Of course!  Why hadn’t she thought of that, she wondered?  She had spent the whole day brooding over Kristoff’s words and trying to find a way to dispute his logic, and the answer had been right under her nose the entire time.  She had received some of these announcements herself, official letters from neighboring kingdoms declaring the birth of some new prince or princess, but it never occurred to her to check her archives for such a thing.  She felt foolish for even questioning John’s background now.  She would get Tobias to show her the royal archives and...

“Oh my goodness!” she said suddenly, putting a hand over her mouth.  “Tobias!”

Her wine went spilling out of her lap and it crashed to the floor with a clank and a clatter.  Long spikes of ice shot out from her throne, extending like the thorns of some vicious bramble.  John leapt up in surprise, stumbling backwards and nearly tripping over his chair, spilling his own wine and sending it splashing across his legs.

Olaf came bounding into the room, his eyes wide with concern, and the guards each took a step forward, their hands reaching for their swords as they searched for the source of the commotion.  It only took them a moment to realize it was an accident, but they did not immediately return to their stations, captivated by the throne which now had spikes of ice protruding from its edges.

Elsa recoiled from her seat and stepped away from John, her hands rising to her mouth.  She couldn’t believe what she had done.  Her throne looked like some nightmarish device, the mangled production of an unstable artist.  She felt tears of shame welling in her eyes, then she looked at John, noting the dark stains of purple that spotted his lap.

“Oh my goodness,” she said, “I’m so sorry!”

John wore a look of shock, his eyes going from her to the throne and back again.  She had no idea how he would react and she feared for the worst.  Had he been sitting a little to his right he might have been impaled by one of the spikes, not to mention she had ruined his breeches.  Would he find her sudden lack of control infuriating?  She had once heard of a king in another land who had a servant executed for spilling wine on his new shoes.  Was John that sort of man?

Elsa was unable to move or speak, her hands covering her mouth as she waited for John’s reaction, but she could never have anticipated what he did next.

He looked down at his stained white breeches and threw his head back and laughed.  It was not a scornful laugh, nor was it a nervous reaction to an uncomfortable situation, it was the deep, guttural sound of a man smitten by something so unexpectedly funny that he cannot control his own fits of hysteria.  He wiped at his eyes, trying to gain control over his loud guffawing, but when he looked down at his legs again he broke out in a fresh round of laughter.

Elsa had no idea what to make of the situation.  She knew he wasn’t laughing at her, but she still felt terrible.

“Well,” John said, finally gaining control as he stooped to brush the remaining dapples of wine from his lap.  “That was quite the surprise.”

“I’m so, so sorry!” Elsa said, horrified.  John waved a hand at her as he sat back down.

“It’s quite alright.  Fortunately, I travel with more than one change of clothes.”  He looked up from his stained outfit, and when he saw Elsa’s distress his smile faded.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

Elsa didn’t respond.  She wasn’t ok.  She felt helpless and embarrassed, not knowing what to say or do.  She wanted to run back to her room and slam the door, shutting out the world and curling up on her bed to cry.

John held out his arm, motioning for her to sit down.  She looked at her throne like it was a poisonous snake and hesitated, not wanting to stay but knowing it would be rude and a little childish to leave.  After another moment of hesitation, she sat.

“I am so sorry,” she said.

“It’s really nothing to worry about,” he said, giving her a smile.  “I’ve done much worse to better clothes.”

He leaned over the side of his chair and snatched the goblets off the floor, setting them back on the table.

“Are you ok?” he asked again.

“Yes, I’m alright,” she said, trying to sound convincing.  She saw that the guards had returned to their posts, but Olaf was still standing there, looking concerned.

“Olaf, please get a maid to clean this up,” she said.

“Ok!” he said, and went hopping out of the room.  When she turned back to John he was eyeing her with a look of concern.  It was a strangely familiar look which reminded her of her father.  When she was a child her father would often visit her in her room, trying to help her learn to control her magic.  When she lost control, which was more often than she cared to remember, he wouldn’t get angry or become impatient, he would simply brush the hair out of her eyes and look at her with an expression of sorrow and concern, the same look that John was giving her now.

“Clearly, something has bothered you,” John said.  “I hope it wasn’t anything I said.”

“No, of course not.  I just realized I forgot about something very important.”

“May I ask, does it have anything to do with me or my men?”

“No, not really.”

“No?  Or not really?”

Elsa watched the puddles of wine which crept toward one another, trying to merge into one large, purple stain on the floor.  She had ruined the evening, she thought, just when she was beginning to enjoy John’s company, and now he probably couldn’t wait to leave.

“Would you like to get out of here?” she asked.  “I’m certain you’re dying to change out of those clothes.”

“As a matter of fact I would like to get out of here, but the clothes can wait.  A little wine never hurt anyone.”  He looked around the room.  “You have a beautiful castle here and I’ve only seen one hallway and the throne room.  How about giving me the grand tour?”

Elsa could hardly believe what he was asking, considering what she had just done, and she kept waiting for a laugh or a smirk to betray the seriousness of his request.  She had expected him to excuse himself and retire to his room, telling his men about the close call he had had with the evil witch-queen of Arendelle, but instead he was sitting there, watching her, as if he really hoped she’d say yes.

Did he really want to stay?  He was perched on the edge of his seat, leaning forward in anticipation.  He looked like he would sit there all evening if he had to, until he got the answer he was looking for, and she was surprised to find that made her happy, happy and more than than a little bit relieved.

She stood up, undoing a clasp at her throat where a cape attached to her dress, and draped it over the back of the throne.

“Very well,” she said.  “Follow me.”

She led him to the archway and the guards there turned, preparing to follow.  She waved a hand at them.

“No, stay here, please.”

They returned to their posts and Elsa left the throne room with John close behind.  She took him down the hallway to a set of stairs which led to the great hall, and then through an open door which led to another hallway.  Eventually, they exited the castle into a large, “L” shaped courtyard filled with gardening plots which were bereft of life.  In fact, there was little there to consider, the only items of interest being a few carcasses of once vibrant trees and a solitary bench which sat in the middle of a patch of brown, dying grass.  It all looked pale in the soft light of the near-full moon.

“This used to be the rose garden,” Elsa said, leading him to the bench across the way.  They sat down, him on one end, her on the other, with their knees pointing inward.  She gave a look at one of the blackened trees which stood a few paces away.  “Naturally, we couldn’t maintain it, but I still come here sometimes when I want to be alone and think.”

There were no torches lit; she had not expected to be here and so had not sent a servant to ignite them, but it was far from dark.  Her eyes went to the star filled sky and a thousand dots of shimmering light winked back at her.

“What startled you so much in the throne room?” John asked.

She looked at him, but his gaze was too intense and she wasn’t able to meet it, so she looked down at her hands.  She had just met this man, she thought, and knew so little about him, so why did she feel like she could talk to him?  Why did she feel comfortable answering his questions?

“Just before you arrived,” she said, “I commanded our last ship to go to our closest trading partner in Weselton.  Out of desperation I agreed to trade Arendelle’s finest plots of land in exchange for a single ship of food and water.”

She looked up, and although John’s gaze was no less intense, this time she did not look away.

“I got so worried when I saw your ships coming that I completely forgot to call it back.  It must have left shortly after you arrived.”

She felt the heat of tears burning behind her eyes and she swallowed them back, looking down at her hands again.  How could she have been such a fool, she thought?  How could she have forgotten to stop that ship?

“I’ve made a terrible mistake,” she said beneath her breath.

They sat in silence and Elsa felt John withdraw his gaze.  He was looking out over the courtyard, staring into the darkness, and after a moment of what she assumed was quiet contemplation, he spoke again.

“Well, it sounds as if I am partially to blame.”

She looked up, and was struck by the depth of concern in John’s expression.  She found it hard to believe that someone who barely knew her would be so concerned about her plight.

“In that case,” John said, “tomorrow morning I will send my fastest ship to Weselton.  You can write a letter invalidating the previous contract and then you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

Elsa shook her head in disbelief.

“You would do that?  For me?”

“My dear Elsa, did I not say there was nothing I wouldn’t do for Arendelle and its beautiful queen?”

Elsa looked away again, hoping that the night was dark enough to conceal her reddening cheeks.

“But what are you going to do for your people?” John asked.

She turned back to him, confused.

“What do you mean?”

He gestured toward the castle.

“You have all these new supplies and provisions, don’t you think this would be the perfect time to celebrate your sister’s engagement?”

Elsa leaned back against the armrest, gauging the seriousness of his suggestion.

“Celebrate?” she said.  “At a time like this?”

John pushed himself to his feet and turned to her, holding out his hand, palm up.  He stood there, waiting for something, but she did not at first understand his intention.  Then she realized what he was waiting for and she took his hand.  He gave a gentle pull and helped her to her feet, then placed her fingers in the crook of his elbow, leading her toward the large, wilted tree nearby.

“Elsa,” he said, looking up at the skeleton-like branches that hung above their heads.  “You have to focus on the things you can control.”

He placed his hand on the gray, brittle skin of the tree, as if he were searching it for some sign of life.

“When the drought causes your trees to wither and die, what can you do about it?”

He was watching her, waiting for her answer, but she knew he already knew the answer.  If he had not known how helpless she had felt, how hopeless she had been, he would not have sailed three ships full of supplies across the sea.

“Nothing.”

“That’s right,” he said.  “Nothing.  But when this drought causes the spirit of your people to wither and die, it is up to you as their queen to refresh it.”

She stared at him, not sure how to reply.  There was a strange elegance to his words, an undeniable charm to their construction, and though she wanted to protest, to make the case for caution and concern, she found she could not refute his logic.  In the end she said nothing, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and John did not press the matter any further.  He turned toward the castle and offered his other elbow.

“I think I have detained the Queen of Arendelle long enough for one evening,” he said with a smile.  “May I escort you back to your castle?”

Elsa took his extended arm and smiled.  His purple stained breeches may have been a case for laughter in any other situation, but Elsa barely noticed them.  She was thinking about lost ships, regrettable contracts, and engagement celebrations.  What John was thinking about, she had no idea, but after a moment, he led her away from the tree, and together they disappeared into the castle.


	6. Chapter 6

Elsa stood alone in the great hall, her hands clasped before her, her eyes lingering upon the empty hallway which led to the courtyard. A servant had just escorted John to the guards' barracks moments ago where he would join his men in retiring for the evening. He had to be exhausted, Elsa thought. They had worked all day, from early morning to late evening, unloading the heavy cargo from the ships, and she found it curious that instead of retiring directly to his room he had come to see her instead. He could have easily had one of his men bring her that manifest, there was nothing official or necessary in its presentation which required him to deliver it, and yet he had. Not that she was complaining. She had enjoyed her evening with him, after all.

It had been a long time since she had enjoyed herself like she had tonight, so long, in fact, that she couldn't remember the last time. The past six months had been filled with nothing but heartache, loss, and disappointments, but today was different. When John and his men arrived they had brought more than just food and water, they had brought hope, and that is something she had thought lost forever.

But it was more than just the gift. She had never spent the evening with a person in this way, just sitting and talking with someone she didn't know, sharing experiences and confiding in one another. It felt good to talk about her concerns. Of course, she had her sister to talk to, and they had spent many a night since the great thaw talking and laughing together, making up for the many years of her isolation, but talking with John was different, and she wasn't sure why. Was it something about John himself or was it the newness of the experience in general? How could she know, when she had no frame of reference for such a thing?

The only stranger she had ever spent time with was Kristoff. After her coronation, when she had fled to the North Mountain, Anna had come after her, and on the way she had met Kristoff, the wandering mountain man and seller of ice. He had no reason to help Anna, and yet he had sacrificed everything to save her, losing his sleigh and sole means of livelihood in the process. Elsa had liked him from the moment she met him, rewarding him with a new sleigh and the title of Official Ice Master and Deliverer, but it would be a long time before they were comfortable around each other, before she would know him and trust him as she did today.

With John, on the other hand, those feelings seemed to come quickly. She had felt a connection with him, a strange sort of companionship that made it easy for her to open up, and that was saying something, for she had never found it easy to talk to anyone. Perhaps it was his kindness, or his generosity, or his unconcerned nature that put her at ease, she didn't know, but whatever it was she had never felt that with anyone before.

"Are you alright, Your Majesty?"

Startled, she turned to see Kai, her castle steward, standing in the doorway on the opposite side of the great hall. His ample figure nearly eclipsed the opening and his bald head sparkled in the light of the lanterns behind him. She realized she had been standing and staring into space, completely lost in her thoughts, and she felt a little silly for it. She glanced back down the hallway, pretending she had been looking for something.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said.

"Very well, then. I'll be in the library if you need anything," he said, before disappearing back through the door and leaving Elsa alone once more. She tried to collect her thoughts, tried to pry her attention from John and focus on the present, but she was having trouble with that even though she knew it was a distraction. She felt like there was something that she needed to do, something she was forgetting, but she couldn't remember what it was.

She started walking across the great hall, heading for the open door where Kai had been, but she had no real purpose or direction. She was thinking how John had saved her twice today. First, by delivering the supplies, and then by offering to send one of his ships to Weselton. She recalled the look of concern he had had and wondered why anyone would go through so much trouble to help someone they had just met. She didn't know the answer, but she was glad for his offer of assistance.

Then he had suggested that they use the new supplies to celebrate her sister's engagement. She had to admit the idea sounded incredulous at first, but the more she thought about it the more it made sense. After all, who was more deserving of a celebration than Anna? Anna had sacrificed everything for her, so the least she could do was celebrate one of the most important events of her life. Besides, a little merriment might do wonders for her people's spirit, as John had pointed out.

She passed through the door and into a round room which had two other doors flanking the bottom of a spiral staircase. She headed for the stairs, the click of her shoes changing to muffled thumps as she ascended the carpeted steps. She was unaware that her feet were taking her to her bedroom, a familiar path which required no conscious thought to traverse, and she might have made it all the way to her bedroom door, arriving with no recollection of the journey, if it weren't for Anna, who was waiting at the top of the stairs. She was standing next to the old grandfather clock, leaning against the wall and wearing a mischievous grin.

"Well, hello there stranger," she said.

Elsa stopped and looked up, pausing to recall where she was and what she was doing. The tick of the pendulum drew her attention to the clock and she was surprised to see that it was already half-past ten.

"You're up late," Elsa said. "Shouldn't you be in bed by now?"

"I could say the same for you!" Anna said, picking up a candle from an end table and locking arms with her sister. They began a slow march down the hall toward Elsa's room.

"Aaaannnd…" Anna said, drawing out the word in one long breath, "...how was your evening?"

Elsa shrugged.

"Fine."

Anna seemed to be waiting for more, but nothing more came. After a short silence she continued.

"It must have been an interesting one. Looks like you lost your favorite cape."

Elsa's hand went to the dimple of her collarbone where the clasp should be. There was nothing there.

"I must have left it behind," Elsa said, glancing over her shoulder, and again offered nothing more. When they arrived at her door they stopped, turning to face one another.

"So, tell me about it!" Anna said, her patience waning.

"Tell you about what?"

"Oh, come on! You think you could have a handsome young prince come visit you and I wouldn't know about it?"

Elsa smiled. She had been trying to repress that silly schoolgirl feeling that was rising inside her, but it came bubbling up all the same. She took the candle from Anna and opened her door, gesturing for her to hurry inside, then glanced both ways as if she were afraid they were being watched. Anna ran to the bed, plopping down on its edge and fixing her sister with an excited grin. Elsa pulled the door closed and used her candle to light the others in the room, then set it on the nightstand, joining Anna on the bed. They sat facing one another with Anna leaning forward, supporting herself on one hand as she waited for the news.

Elsa folded her gloved fingers into her lap and returned Anna's smile. There was a gleam in her sister's eye, a spark of excitement and curiosity that she hadn't seen for a long time. It was so easy to see that little girl she remembered from long ago, peeking out from behind those turquoise eyes, and she felt the glow of nostalgia as she thought about her sister and how little she had changed over the years.

Anna had always thrived on excitement and curiosity, always had a thirst for adventure and a passion for discovery. This had sometimes gotten them both into trouble, she recalled, but it had also kept them entertained in spite of the drudgery that was princess life. Private tutors, etiquette lessons, and royal balls were enough to bore the tears out of any child, but with Anna it had never been boring. Whether they were crawling onto the roof to watch the northern lights, or sneaking outside to play in the snow, or making their own snow in the great hall of the castle, Anna always found a way to keep everything exciting.

But those days had been short lived. The accident had changed her life forever and she had spent the next fourteen years locked in her room, trying to learn how to control her magic and resigning herself to a lifetime of solitude.

Anna, though, had never given up on her. That light in her eyes had kept on glowing no matter what evil had tried to snuff it out, and there had been plenty of evil in her world. She had lost her sister to a life of isolation, lost her parents to the wrath of the sea, and was rejected and betrayed by her fiancée. Any one of those things might have been enough to destroy even the strongest of women, but Anna had weathered them all, and though that light in her eyes had dimmed for a time, it had never been lost. It was there now, burning bright as ever as she sat perched on the edge of the bed, not-so-patiently waiting for the details of John's visit.

"So," Elsa said, trying to sound composed, "what do you want to know?"

"Tell me everything! What was he wearing? What did you talk about? How long did he stay?"

"Ok," Elsa said, trying to decide where to start. "I'm not really sure what time he arrived or how long he stayed, I wasn't really paying attention to the time. It was after dark, I know that, and I was just sitting in the throne room thinking about the day when he showed up."

"Was he by himself?"

"Yes. Well, except for two of my guards."

"Ok, go on. What was he wearing? How did he look?"

"Well, he had just bathed, so his hair was wet and slicked back, and he was wearing a fancy blue shirt and white breeches…"

Elsa grimaced, covering her face with her hands.

"...which I spilled wine all over."

"You what?" Anna asked in disbelief.

Elsa didn't know how, but she had forgotten about that part, although it had happened less than an hour ago. Her mind was so preoccupied with Weselton, the rose garden, and a possible engagement party, that she had forgotten; but now the memory came rushing back, along with the sting of its humiliation.

Elsa peeked out from between the spaces of her fingers.

"I spilled wine all over him."

"Wine? You had wine?"

"Yes, I scared him so badly that he spilled his wine, right into his lap."

Anna's curiosity turned to concern.

"What happened?"

Elsa took a deep breath and sighed, thinking about that moment. The spikes of ice which had shot out from her throne reminded her of that fateful evening at her coronation when she had, quite by accident, conjured a row of deadly spikes in her ballroom. She had nearly impaled some of her guests and she remembered the look of shock and horror on their faces, not to mention her own shame and embarrassment. That had been one of the worst times of her life and she had sworn to herself it would never happen again, but somehow it had, and to make matters worse this was the second time in just a few days that she had lost control of her magic. She couldn't understand what was happening to her, why she couldn't keep it in.

"Remember that ship I sent to Weselton?" Elsa said. Anna's eyes went wide and she gasped.

"Oh no! I forgot about that!"

"So did I, and when I realized what I had done I lost control of my magic. I startled John so badly that he spilled his wine down his legs, completely ruining his breeches."

Anna grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

Elsa frowned.

"I wanted to die!"

Anna nodded like she understood, but how could she understand, Elsa wondered? How could she possibly understand what she had felt?

But that wasn't really fair, she thought. She recalled that moment at her coronation, when she had unleashed her magic in the ballroom, and how she had fled to the North Mountain convinced that if she stayed in Arendelle her magic might hurt someone again. It was Anna who had come after her, braving the dangers of the wilderness to try to get her back. It was only then that Elsa had learned how she had doomed Arendelle to an eternal winter, burying the entire kingdom under heaps of freezing snow. Anna had asked her to undo it, but she hadn't known how. It was Anna who had helped her learn that love was the key to overcoming her fears, and with that realization she was able to remove the snow, unfreeze the fjord, and bring back Summer.

No doubt, Anna did understand how difficult it was for her. Elsa realized that it was she herself who didn't seem to understand what was going on. After the great thaw she thought her struggles with her magic were over, she thought she had learned to control her powers, but she was wrong. Obviously, there was more to herself and her magic than even she understood.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," Anna said, trying to be consoling. "What did John do?"

"Nothing," Elsa said, remembering how worried she had been that John would be upset, and how relieved she was that he wasn't. "He just laughed. Then we went to the rose garden and talked."

"Really?"

Elsa nodded.

"He didn't get upset?"

Elsa shook her head.

"That's great! What did you guys talk about in the rose garden?"

Elsa started to say something then realized she had to be careful here. She didn't want to tell Anna about their conversation regarding the engagement party. Since she hadn't decided what to do there was no sense getting her sister all worked up, and she knew if she told her there would be no stopping her from getting worked up.

"John is going to send one of his ships to Weselton in the morning. They're going to deliver a letter canceling the contract."

"Really? That's wonderful! See? You get all worried about this stuff but in the end it all works out."

Elsa smiled.

"I suppose you're right."

"Now," Anna said with a sigh, "if I could just convince Kristoff of that."

The mention of Kristoff made Elsa realize she had forgotten about him. She hadn't seen him all day, and the last time they had spoken they had had a disagreement. Kristoff wasn't one to work through his feelings very well, so she was a little worried about him.

"How is he?" she asked.

"Kristoff? Oh, he's fine. He's just pouting because no one believes that John could have come here to overthrow the kingdom."

Elsa suddenly realized what it was she had forgotten about.

"That reminds me," she said, standing up. "There's something I have to do."

Then she hurried out the door, leaving Anna to stare after her in confusion.

* * *

Elsa stood at the window of her throne room, looking at the dark shadow of the ships docked in the harbor. She thought about the immense amount of work it would have taken to load those ships. She thought about the dangers inherent in sea travel. Then she wondered if someone would go through all that as part of an elaborate ruse. It seemed unlikely.

Before Hans she might not have given any quarter to Kristoff's suspicions, she might have passed them off as the cynical ramblings of a paranoid man, but Hans had changed all that. He had shown the depth of evil which could lay hidden behind the curtain of false kindness, and he had taught them a painful lesson in the dangers of misplaced trust.

John seemed like a kind and decent fellow, and she hoped that all this doubt surrounding his motives would turn out to be a waste of time and energy, but she wanted to know for sure. Was there any way to know for sure, though, she wondered? Perhaps not. How could one ever be totally sure about anyone? But there were reasonable precautions she could take, such as confirming John's identity. As such, she had sent Olaf to retrieve Tobias, the servant in charge of maintaining the archives. It was late and he would no doubt be sleeping, but if she wanted to get any sleep herself she would have to do it tonight before she went to bed.

She turned from the window and sat on the throne, drumming her fingers on the armrest. As she waited, she replayed the events of the evening in her mind, going over John's words and recalling his expressions and body language, wondering if there was something she had missed, something out of place or out of the ordinary that might tell her something. She thought about his visit that evening, his possible motives, and the confidence with which he had approached her. He had planned the evening, she thought, even had one of his men deliver a bottle of wine. She wondered if she was being played or manipulated in some way, but she didn't think so. He had seemed quite natural and had been quite pleasant to talk to, and she had to admit she had enjoyed both the wine and his company.

Then there was that moment when she had made him spill the wine, and she remembered his laughter. You could tell when someone was faking a laugh, out of courtesy or in an attempt to get in someone's good graces, but he hadn't sounded like that at all. Also, she thought his concern for her afterward had seemed so genuine that it was hard to imagine he wasn't being sincere. So far, she had no reason to suspect that John was anything but sincere, but she would do what she had to do to put her concerns to rest, to the most reasonable extent possible.

She heard the shuffle of footsteps outside the hall and rose to meet whoever it was and, as expected, saw Olaf and Tobias appear in the archway. It appeared that Tobias had been sleeping. What remained of his black hair was a mess and he blinked against the light of the lantern which he held aloft, scrubbing a hand across his face and over his balding head.

"Thank you, Olaf," Elsa said. "Please stay here until I get back."

"Ok!" he said, with the unbridled enthusiasm that only he could conjure this late in the evening.

She turned with Tobias and headed back down the hallway, descending the stairs which led to the great hall.

"What's this all about, Your Majesty?" Tobias asked.

"Just something I want to check on before I retire."

"It must be quite important if it required that I be awoken in the middle of the night. Might I ask what has you so concerned?"

She didn't like his tone, as if he felt she needed to explain her actions to him.

"My personal matters are no concern of yours, Tobias."

"Of course not, Your Majesty, I only thought I might be able to help."

"You are helping," she said, as they crossed the great hall. "Did you bring the key as requested?"

"Yes, of course," he said, patting his pocket, which produced the jangle of a ring of keys

She led them through two more doors, down a narrow hallway, and then up a short flight of stairs which ended at a large wooden door. He hung the lantern on a hook and fumbled through his robe until he produced a cast iron loop from which hung a dozen keys. He tried one, inserting it in the black keyhole and jiggling it, but with no success. He tried another, and another, all with the same result.

"My apologies, Your Majesty," he said as he held the keys up to the light in order to inspect them. "It has been a long time since I've been in here."

He thumbed through the keys before choosing another and pushing it into the lock. This time it worked, and a loud _click_ sounded through the stairwell. He grabbed the handle and pushed and the door swung inward, grating along the stone floor as the hinges creaked and moaned in defiance. Tobias held the door and Elsa went inside, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The lantern shed a small circle of light into the room, but she could see little more than her shadow cast before her.

Tobias followed with the lantern, causing her shadow to spin like a sundial as he brushed past, but as he went from column to column, lighting the candles mounted there, her shadow faded and the room was awash in the glow of flickering candlelight.

She had never been in this room before, never had any reason to come here, and it seemed smaller than she had expected. Perhaps the walls, which were lined with bookshelves from corner to corner, made it appear smaller than it actually was, she thought. Those shelves were sagging with age and did not appear to be organized in any particular manner, overflowing with books, scrolls, parchments, rolls of paper, and lock boxes of various sizes. Throughout the rest of the room there were a half dozen tables, each piled high with boxes and books and stacks of yellowing paper. All of it was covered with a thick layer of dust, and cobwebs connected one object to another in a fine, silky lattice throughout the entire room.

The place needed a lot of attention, she thought, and if she weren't so short on staff she might have ordered someone to come clean and organize it. In the meantime, she wondered if Tobias would be able to find anything in this mess.

"I'm looking for birth records," she said as Tobias returned. He set the lantern on a dust covered desk and brushed his hands on his robe.

"Birth records?"

"Yes, birth records from neighboring kingdoms. The Southern Isles to be exact, going back about thirty years should suffice."

Tobias cocked his head, looking quite puzzled.

"They're here, aren't they?" She asked.

"Yes, of course, but…" He paused, looking at Elsa for a long moment, but he never finished the sentence. He motioned for Elsa to follow as he headed for one corner in particular, and when he found the table he was looking for he started lifting boxes and shifting papers which sent cobwebs scattering and created plumes of dust. Elsa coughed, turning her face away and waving a hand to clear the air, but her attention snapped back when Tobias let out a cry of success. He dragged a medium sized box to the edge of the table and hefted it up, carrying it to an empty desk in the middle of the room. There he set it down and lifted off its cover, and Elsa stood next to him, peering at the jumbled contents which included papers, envelopes, and other stationery. Tobias flipped through a few of them and then grunted in satisfaction.

"This is it," he said, pushing the box over to Elsa. "This box contains all the records of births, marriages, and deaths of all royals and dignitaries in Arendelle for the last one hundred years. It should also include any royal birth and wedding announcements from other kingdoms during that time."

"Thank you, Tobias," she said, pulling the box toward her. Unlike the rest of the room the papers were neatly arranged and, although many of them were tattered or folded, they had been filed with care. She was happy for that. The last thing she wanted to do was spend the whole night sorting through a jumbled mess of papers.

"Would you like me to stay, Your Majesty?"

Elsa looked up, noting his unenthusiastic expression.

"No, thank you. You can go. Just leave the keys for me and I'll lock up when I'm done."

"As you wish," he said with a bow. He set the ring of keys next to the box and left, grabbing a candle and pulling the door shut behind him.

Elsa turned back to the box and began her search through the papers and other items, all of which appeared to be official documents. The first section was labeled "Marriage Records," as marked by a white, wafer-like stick inscribed with a fanciful scrawl. The next partition was labeled "Death Notices" in a similar fashion. She skimmed past these, her fingers walking across the top of the papers until they came to a stop at what she was looking for, a section labeled "Birth Announcements."

She extracted the entire section, which was about the thickness of a good sized book, and bent over to blow dust and cobwebs from the desk before setting it down. The first page was folded in half, and after unfolding it she found it was from a kingdom she had no interest in. She rifled through the other sheets and found records from many of the surrounding lands, each declaring the births of various princes and princesses. Fortunately, the announcements were grouped together according to kingdom, which made it easy to find the records for the Southern Isles. They were the largest section in the stack.

She set the unwanted papers aside and began leafing through the announcements from the Southern Isles. They were not chronologically ordered and the dates varied within the hundred year period Tobias had mentioned. She even found one that was almost one hundred and fifty years old, obviously misfiled. She didn't recognize any of the names on any of them, except for when she found Hans' record, which she paused to inspect. She scowled at the name printed on a form that was supposed to bring joy and gladness to all who read it.

She wondered how her parents had received that announcement, imagining her mother's excitement when she heard the news of the child. Her mother had always loved babies. She remembered how excited she would get when she saw a new mother in the town square, running over to fawn over their baby as if it were her own, and so Elsa imagined that when the birth announcement for Hans had been delivered her mother had probably gushed at the news, cooing over the introduction of a new baby boy.

Little did she know that a mere 23 years later he would try to murder her own two daughters and attempt to steal the throne.

Elsa stared at the document for a moment more, half tempted to crumple it up and see how it fared in the flame of a candle, but she resisted the urge. She set it aside, expelling her disgust in a puff of air that sent dust scattering from the stack.

As she flipped through more pages she realized she was getting close to the end of the section and she hadn't yet seen John's name. Her apprehension swelled as she turned each page, seeing name after name that she didn't recognize, and when she turned the last page for the Southern Isles she still hadn't found a record of anyone named John.

She fanned through the remainder of the unsearched stack, looking for any record from the Southern Isles that might have been misplaced, but she found nothing.

"No," she whispered aloud, swallowing a lump of fear. "Please, no."

If John's name wasn't in here she didn't know what she would do. She felt the blood drain from her face, felt her heart lurch as a sense of dread crept over her. What if Kristoff had been right about John? What if he _had_ come to overthrow Arendelle?

She was suddenly aware that she was up here all alone, far from the rest of the castle and easy prey for an unscrupulous visitor who might be stalking her. She felt goosebumps prickle down her neck and shoulders, and she chided herself for not asking Tobias to stay, or to fetch a guard, or to tell someone where she had gone.

She thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye and she jerked her head up, staring into the darkness. She sat in silence, holding her breath and watching the shadows, but after a time it was apparent there was nothing there.

Her imagination was getting the best of her, she realized that, and she forced herself to calm down, made herself take a deep breath. She hadn't found John's name, but what did that really mean? Did it mean he was some kind of killer come to stalk Arendelle? That was silly, she thought, it was much more likely that the paper had just been lost or misplaced, or perhaps they had never received it at all.

_But Hans' record is there, isn't it? So where is John's?_

She looked back at the papers, pushing her fear away, trying to devise a reasonable explanation for its absence. Perhaps she had just missed it.

She flipped back to the beginning of the section, being more careful about examining each page. She took off her glove and licked her fingertip, rubbing each sheet between her index finger and thumb.

First page...nothing. Second page...nothing. Third, fourth, and fifth pages...all nothing.

And then she found something, a page she had missed stuck to the back of another record. She pried it away and turned it toward the light, steadying it with both hands because she was shaking too much to read it. There it was, the one she had missed, the one she had been looking for, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw his name, 'Prince John,' printed in large calligraphy letters beneath the words "announcing the newest addition to the royal family of the Southern Isles." The birth date he had provided her matched the date on the announcement.

She sat back, her heart still racing, and she took a moment to collect herself. She was very thirsty all of a sudden, and she felt like all the energy had been drained out of her, like she could lay her head on the desk, as dusty as it was, and fall right asleep. But she didn't. She sat there for a few moments, studying John's announcement, her heart rate slowing and her breathing returning to normal. She gave a sigh and shook her head.

_You silly girl,_ she thought. _You got all worked up over nothing_.

She pulled her glove on and started to put the birth announcement back where she had found it, between "Edward" and "Anders," then thought better of it. She didn't want it to get stuck again, or ruined by whatever substance had bonded it to the other sheet. So she set it on top before combining it with the rest of the stack and lowering it back into the box. She was about to put the lid on when she saw one of the sheets had slipped and was sticking up from the others. It wasn't much, just an edge and most of one corner, but it was enough for her to recognize the seal of Arendelle and what looked like the first few letters of her father's name. Intrigued, she pried open the stack and extracted the paper so she could examine it.

It appeared to be the official announcement of her father's birth, but it was so caked with dust and grime that she couldn't tell for sure. She held it flat and blew on it, sending a cloud of dust into the air, then she swiped at the grime with her thumb. What it revealed astounded her.

It was definitely her father's birth announcement, there was no doubt. In the corner was an impression of Arendelle's seal and his name was printed below the words "We are proud to announce the birth of." But just below his name, in the same faded style of lettering, were printed the words "and Princess Inger."

Elsa looked up from the paper, confused. Who was Princess Inger? She had never heard that name before. She looked back down, wondering if she had made a mistake or been tricked by the candlelight or something, but no, there it was, as plain as day.

Had her father been a twin, she wondered? She regarded this as unlikely because he had never mentioned a sister, or a sibling of any kind, for that matter, but the record was clear, there had been a Princess Inger. So what had happened to her?

She flipped the paper over, as if she might find a clue on the other side, but, of course, it was blank. She looked at the writing again, wondering if she had misinterpreted it, but she hadn't. It just didn't make any sense, but there it was, a name she didn't recognize printed below her father's. _Princess Inger._

Perhaps Inger had died as a baby, she thought. She had heard of that before, a baby dying shortly after birth. It was tragic but not all that uncommon. If that's what happened then her father would never have known Inger. Still, it would be unusual for him to not even mention her.

She wondered if there was anyone she could ask, anyone in the castle who might have been around when her father was born, but she couldn't think of anyone. Her father had dismissed all the staff when she was a child, hiring new servants, and then only enough to maintain the necessary castle functions. This he had done to protect her from prying eyes after she had...well...after she had struck Anna with her magic.

She grimaced at the memory. It was one she didn't like to think about, even after all these years, but once conjured the memory was difficult to restrain. She kept seeing little five-year-old Anna's bright eyes as she leapt from one magical snow pile to another, going higher and higher with each leap. She had tried to stop her, tried to slow Anna down because her magic couldn't keep up, but she wouldn't listen. All it took was one misplaced burst of magic and then…

She shut her eyes against the memory, forcing it back, like a wild beast into its cage. She sighed and looked at the paper again. So she might never find out what happened to this Princess Inger after all.

_Wait a minute_ , she thought. _Didn't this box also contain death notices?_ She glanced at the labels to confirm and, yes, there was a section dedicated to death notices. She dropped the birth announcement onto the desk and went back to the box, sorting through the papers with renewed interest. If Inger had died as a baby then surely they would have filed a death notice for her. Wouldn't they?

She filed through the papers one at a time until she thought she had found what she was looking for. She slid the paper out of the box, studying it to make sure, and it was definitely Inger's death notice; but what she read there confused her.

According to the document, Princess Inger had been lost at sea at the age of nineteen.

Elsa looked up, unable to understand what she was reading. She picked up the birth announcement again and held the two records side by side, trying to make sense of them. Why would her father have concealed the existence of a twin sister? Why wouldn't he have told her about her aunt? She couldn't reconcile her discovery with what she knew about her father; he wasn't the sort of person to keep secrets from his family.

She wondered if there was anything else up here that might shed some light on the mystery of who this Princess Inger was, so she went from table to table, opening boxes and rifling through their contents. Any that she found of interest she brought back to the desk, and soon she had a stack of boxes on both sides of her, with piles of papers spread out and discarded sheets overflowing onto the floor. Her search lasted for quite a while, but she had no idea how much time had passed before she heard the frantic steps of someone racing up the stairwell. She turned to look just as Alek came bursting through the door, flinging it open with his shoulder.

"Your Majesty!" he exclaimed, panting and out of breath. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

"What is it?" she said, her heart racing again. She had never seen Alek so distraught and it frightened her. "What happened?"

"The ships!" he said. "It's the ships!" Then he turned and ran back down the stairs. Elsa gave chase at once.

She had no idea what Alek meant by ' _the ships_ ,' but she didn't like the way he said it. She wondered if she had been wrong about John after all, if her confirmation of his identity had been a false comfort. Were the ships a part of some elaborate scheme by John, like the Trojan Horse in the stories her father had read to her as a child? That mythic device had been used to conceal soldiers, but she couldn't imagine what the ships might have been used for that would make Alek so frantic to find her.

She held her dress up as she bounded down the steps two at a time, careful not to lose a shoe as she ran down the hallway in her heels. When she entered the great hall there were servants milling about in their pajamas with confused looks, as if they had just awoken in a strange place. They stared at her as she ran past but offered no explanation, nor did she wait to receive one. When she reached the hall that led to the courtyard the double doors were already open, and right away she knew something was terribly wrong.

It was the middle of the night and yet something was aglow outside, its bright orange light flooding the hallway.

She ran out the doors and onto the porch, nearly tripping over her own feet as she stopped short, staring in disbelief at the sight before her.

Though the walls of the courtyard concealed the harbor, she saw flames rising from there, shooting high into the sky, the roar of their burning audible even from the castle portico, and she understood what had caused Alek so much distress.

John's ships were on fire.

In the light of the flames she caught sight of John and his men, standing at the mouth of the bridge which led to the town square. She ran over to them, pushing her way through the crowd until she got to John. He turned to look at her and her heart sank when she saw his face. His mouth hung open and his lips quivered, either from anger or disbelief, and his eyes were wide with shock, the skin around them turned white.

She looked at the boats and saw they were not just on fire, they were completely engulfed in flames. There were people who had collected in the town square, staring and pointing at the ships, and she wondered why no one had started a water brigade. Then she remembered they had no water. She also realized that the flames were so intense that no one would have been able to get anywhere near those ships, even if they wanted to.

"What happened?" she managed to ask, her voice barely more than a whisper.

John swallowed so hard that she could hear the click of his throat over the roar of the flames. He shook his head in disbelief.

"Clearly you have a traitor in Arendelle," he said.


	7. Chapter 7

The fire was immense.  Elsa had never seen anything like it.  Like a monster it consumed both the docks and the town square, shooting sparks and embers high into the night sky.  Despite standing only a few paces away, though, she could not hear its roar or feel its heat; it was a silent beast devouring its prey.  She knew she should run, escape to the castle and warn the others, but she couldn’t move.  She couldn’t even look away.  As she peered into the flames she saw the silhouettes of men wandering to and fro as if they were unaware they had been swallowed by fire.  One of the figures separated itself from the others and approached, and though she could not see his face she recognized he wore the garb of a dignitary, a white jacket with tasseled shoulders and black, knee-high boots.   He stopped, as if unable to pass beyond the wall of fire which separated them, and seemed to smile as he raised a hand, beckoning her forward.  She was compelled to respond, by some inexplicable force of will she wanted to go to him, and she took a step forward, then another.  She paused at the fire’s edge, reaching out to touch it, but she felt nothing.  She took another step, one which carried her beyond the fiery barrier, but as she passed through the wall of flame everything changed. 

The man disappeared and she heard screams from the town square, saw her people running and flailing, their bodies engulfed in flames.  But it was no longer just the square which burned, all of Arendelle was on fire, the roof of every house spouting yellow flames.  Another scream from behind her caused her to whirl and she saw a figure fleeing the castle, running toward her and crying out her name. 

It was Anna. 

Elsa awoke with a start, her bed sheets soaked with sweat.  She lay still for a long while, the bitter taste of fear lingering in the back of her throat as she tried to sort reality from dream world.  The fire last night had been a terrible one, that was for certain, but all of Arendelle had not burned as in her dream.  The docks had sustained extensive damage, she recalled that, but the town square was untouched and the fire had certainly not spread to any of the houses.  Still, it took her a moment to cast off the fading remnants of the dream and calm her beating heart. 

She pushed away the blankets and sat up, scrubbing her hands across her face as she became aware of a throbbing in her temples.  She had gone to bed with a headache and awoke with it still there, giving her the sense that she had benefited little from the night’s rest.  That did not bode well for the day which lay before her, she thought. 

She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment with her head in her hands, rubbing her temples, then she pushed herself to her feet, fighting a bout of nausea.  When it passed she went to the window and drew back the curtains, flinching at the sunlight.  She squinted and blinked as she tried to judge the position of the sun, deciding that it must be mid-morning, perhaps nine o’clock or half past. 

Her staff had been merciful enough not to wake her, but it had been about an hour before dawn when she had retired for the night and she was still suffering the effects of a half a night’s sleep. 

She thought about what happened as she went to a water basin, bathing herself with a damp cloth before dressing for the day.  She couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more she could have done.  She was sure everyone had expected her to stop the fire with her magic, but she didn’t know how to.  There was still so much she didn’t understand about her powers, so much she didn’t know.  She had once frozen the entire fjord, from bank to bank, trapping a dozen boats within its ice, and to this day she didn’t know how she did it.  So, when confronted with the inferno in the harbor she hadn’t known what to do, other than wait for the flames to die down and use seawater to put it out. 

By that time the moon had dipped behind the mountains, leaving it pitch dark on the docks, it was deemed too dangerous to mount a salvage operation.  They had decided to wait for morning to continue and she had retired to her room more exhausted than she had ever felt in her life.  And as she stood before her mirror adjusting her tiara and slipping on her shoes, she wasn’t feeling much better. 

She went to the door and pulled it open, surprised to find a guard standing outside. 

“Oh!” she said, looking to see if there was anyone else out there.  There wasn’t.  “Hello.  Have you been out here all morning?” 

“Yes, Your Majesty.  We have orders that you are to be kept under guard at all times.” 

She recalled Alek saying something to that effect just before she left for her room, but she had been so tired it hadn’t registered. 

“Very well,” she said, closing the door behind her.  “I’m headed to the throne room.” 

As she followed the guard down the hall she thought about Alek’s order of protection.  Guards were a common sight throughout the castle, even with their numbers more than halved because of the drought.  They were often seen surveying the grounds, patrolling the hallways, and monitoring the throne room, but up until last night she had never had one posted outside her door while she slept.  The burning ships had rattled them and they were on high alert, but was the fire truly an act of arson, she wondered? 

John was convinced the fire was set intentionally.  She recalled his ashen face as he declared there was a traitor in their midst, but she hadn’t a moment to consider the implications of that.  At the time, her only concern was stopping the fire and preventing its spread, and even after they had succeeded in putting it out she had been too exhausted to consider what had caused it.  Even Alek’s final words had not registered.  He had said _‘We need to find out who did this,’_ and she had nodded but had been too fatigued to discuss the significance of what he was suggesting.  She had returned to the castle and collapsed into bed and hadn’t considered the possibility that she was in danger; but now, for the first time, she felt the pang of fear that accompanies such a realization. 

She glanced over her shoulder, struck by the feeling that someone could be watching her, lurking in the shadows or peeking through the crack of a door.  She shivered and crossed her arms, stepping a little closer to the guard.  It was an unpleasant thought, one that reminded her of a story her father had once read to her as a child. 

In it, a king had a portrait of himself hung in his bedroom across from his bed.  Sometimes he would awake at night and notice how the eyes of that picture would glisten in the moonlight.  He gave credit to the remarkable artist who was able to achieve such realism, but by the end of the story you discover there was an escaped prisoner living in the walls of the castle.  He had removed the bricks from behind the painting, cut holes where its eyes were, and spied on the king while he slept. 

The story had creeped Elsa out and now she felt that same feeling again, like insects were crawling down her neck and prickling across her skin.  The only difference was, this time it was not some imaginary king who was being watched, it was her. 

But was someone really watching her?  Was there an enemy hiding amongst them?  If there was she had no idea who it could be; after all, there weren’t many people left in Arendelle, just a handful of servants and guards and a spattering of residents scattered throughout the city.  Of these, who was worthy of mistrust?  Certainly not any member of her staff.  She knew each of her servants personally and none of them would be capable of such an atrocious act.  So what about the guards, then?  She wasn’t as familiar with them, but they had Alek’s trust and each one had chosen to stay and protect her when all others had fled for their lives, therefore, she held all of them in the highest regard. 

So that left only her people.  They were all poor farmers and carpenters and stone workers, what reason would they have to engage in such a deplorable act? 

It didn’t make any sense to her.  What motive would anyone in Arendelle have for setting the ships on fire?  Despite John and Alek’s insistence to the contrary, she wondered if it could have been an accident.  She had once heard of a kingdom who lost their entire harbor and every ship in it to fire.  Someone had been careless enough to leave a lantern unattended and it had slid off the table during a storm, setting the whole boat alight.  The flames had leapt from boat to boat and spread into part of the city before it was extinguished.  Wasn’t it possible something similar had happened here?  She supposed it was, but it didn’t change much either way.  Whether it was an accident or an intentional act of sabotage, the effects were just as devastating. 

Her stomach twisted with worry when they arrived at the throne room and she hurried through the archway, leaving the guard outside.  Marshmallow stirred as she entered but she paid him little heed, going instead to the window that overlooked the docks.  The night had been a dark one and when the fires were extinguished it was difficult to determine the full level of destruction.  The damage had been extensive, to be sure, but a part of her had hoped there might be a way to salvage one of the ships and make it seaworthy again.  She kept thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as she remembered, that her imagination might be exaggerating her memory.  However, from her perch on the second floor of the castle she could see that it was even worse than what she expected. 

There was a collection of people at the edge of the square overlooking the harbor, leaning on the ropes and pointing at the ships, at least what remained of them.  One of the ships had sunk to the bottom of the harbor and only its mast could be seen, rising from the waters like a slender grave marker, burnt sails hanging in blackened strips.  The other two were little more than charred remains, smoldering husks floating ghost-like upon the water.  Men crawled over the wreckage, probably John’s men surveying the damage, but the hopelessness of the situation was clear. 

Every ship was a complete loss.  There would be no salvaging any of them. 

She went to the throne and sat down, burying her face in her hands.  She couldn’t believe this had happened.  John had only come to help, to offer his assistance to a dying land, but now he had lost everything, not to mention he was stranded with no way home.  How could such an act of generosity be repaid with such evil? 

_Because Arendelle is cursed._

She flinched at the thought.  There was a time when a thought like that would have been discarded as fiction, a ridiculous stretch of the undisciplined imagination, but she didn’t feel that way now.  It seemed too strong of a possibility to dismiss, considering the evidence at hand.  The drought was unnatural, that was for certain, nothing like it had ever been seen and every other kingdom around them prospered.  So maybe Arendelle was cursed after all.  Maybe she was naive to think they would ever find water.  Maybe nothing could prevent the kingdom from dying and taking with it any who were too poor to escape, too foolish to leave, or had the misfortune of trying to help. 

Maybe the duke had been right all along. 

_'Elsa, you have cursed this land!’_

She sat with her head in her hands wondering, and not for the first time, if it could be true. 

“I’m sorry Your Highness,” came the guards’ voice from outside the throne room, “but I cannot allow him through.” 

“Jacob!” came Anna’s sharp reply.  “Get out of my way!” 

Elsa raised her eyes, her attention drawn by the voices, but she was shocked to see long spikes of ice protruding from the walls around her, pushing inward as they grew and extended.  She looked behind her and found the entire room lined with them.  Marshmallow had stepped away from the wall to avoid being impaled. 

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” the guard said, “but only members of the royal family are allowed to see the queen today, captain’s orders.” 

Any other time Elsa might have gone to see what was going on in the hallway, but she was transfixed by the deadly ice clinging to the walls around her.  She couldn’t believe it was there, hadn’t even felt the magic go out of her, however, it wasn’t a total surprise.  She had seen it happen once before. 

After her coronation, when she had fled to the North Mountain, Anna had followed to tell her the kingdom was buried under the snow of an eternal winter.  Only then did she realize how dangerous she truly was and she had chased Anna and Kristoff off the mountain to protect them.  She had tried to reign in her emotions then, tried to control the fear which threatened to overtake her, but she had failed.  That was the first time she had seen the spikes, sprouting from every wall and column, and she was horrified to see them again. 

“I don’t care what your orders are!” Anna shouted.  “Get out of my way!” 

There was a ruckus, then Anna said, “No! Stay out here!” before she appeared through the archway with John.  She strode into the room in a huff, dragging John by the arm, but her anger melted when she saw the walls.  They both stopped short, staring wide eyed at the scene before them. 

“Elsa,” Anna said, “it’s freezing in here!” 

Elsa hadn’t realized it but the temperature had plunged.  Anna crossed her arms and rubbed at her shoulders, shivering as her breath came out in puffs of white steam.  John cupped his hands over his mouth and blew, then rubbed them together in a vain attempt to keep warm. 

Elsa waved a hand at the ice, like a cave explorer brushing away cobwebs, then rubbed her eyes with her fingers trying to massage the pain which throbbed in her head.  When she looked up again she gasped. 

The ice was still there. 

She waved her hand again but nothing happened.  It was like something inside her was stopping the flow of magic.  She focused, concentrated, tried to will it away.  Still, nothing happened. 

She didn’t understand, why wasn’t her magic responding?  During the great thaw she had ended the eternal winter by ridding the land of all unwanted snow, right down to the smallest snowflake, so why couldn’t she remove the ice?  Her magic always obeyed. 

_No,_ she thought, _not always._

Then panic set in.  It was an old familiar feeling of helplessness, something she hadn’t felt for a long time.  For a moment she felt like a child again, cowering in the corner of her room as she watched ice crawl across the floor and up the walls of her bedroom, hoping and praying that no one came to visit while her magic betrayed her.  As long as it acted of its own accord then no one was safe.  She had to get it under control. 

_Conceal, don’t feel,_ she thought. 

It had been a long time since she had invoked the mantra that was once a part of her daily life, and it brought her no comfort to fall back on the staple of her isolation now, but it made no difference.  The ice remained. 

Anna started toward her and John followed.  Elsa leapt up. 

“No!  Stay away!” 

John stopped but Anna kept going, quickening her pace as she approached.  Elsa hurried around the throne, placing it between them like a barrier. 

“Anna, please, I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Elsa,” Anna said, “are you ok?” 

“I can’t make it stop, Anna.  Please, you need to leave.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.”  She moved toward Elsa, her turquoise eyes set with worry, but Elsa circled away, keeping the throne between them. 

“There’s nothing you could have done,” Anna said, “about the fire...I mean.  You know that, don’t you?” 

“Yes, I know, but you need to leave before you get hurt.” 

“Elsa,” John said, his voice low and calm and filled with concern.  She turned to face him and he started toward her, holding his hands out palms up.  “What has got you so upset?” 

At first, the question perturbed her.  How could he even ask such a thing, she thought?  She had a million reasons to be upset, the least of which not being the fiery destruction and total loss of every ship in her harbor.  Then she reminded herself that those were his ships.  If anyone had reason to be upset it was him. 

“John, I’m so sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“You lost everything last night.  I’m so, so sorry.” 

“Is that what you’re upset about?”  He waved his hand as if it were a trivial concern.  “It’s really not that bad when you think about it.  I have my health and my friends, and what more does a man really need?” 

He gave her a warm smile and appeared genuinely unruffled.  Elsa couldn’t understand how he could have already made peace with a tragedy whose repercussions were not yet fully known.  How could he be so calm in the face of adversity?  Did he understand the gravity of the situation? 

“But you’re stuck here now,” she said.  “You’re stranded in Arendelle.  You can’t leave.” 

He stopped before her, barely more than an arm’s length away, and lowered his chin.  His gaze was intense, his blue eyes flashing in the light of the window. 

“What makes you think I want to leave?” 

She searched his eyes for sincerity, wondering if he meant what he was saying.  She couldn’t imagine being stuck in another kingdom with no way of getting back home to her family or her people, especially if that kingdom was as inhospitable and unforgiving as Arendelle was now.  How could he possibly not want to leave? 

“You don’t mean that,” she said, looking at the floor. 

“Elsa,” he said, “I have never spoken more truly in my life.  Since my arrival I have been absolutely captivated by your kingdom and its people, and quite frankly by you.  If there was ever anywhere I could hope to be stranded it would be right here with you, standing by your side while you fight to save Arendelle from this drought.” 

She looked up.  He seemed so earnest, so honest, and she had to believe what he was saying was true.  Anna came over and grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze, and that’s when Elsa noticed the ice had disappeared. 

“It’s gone!” she said with surprise.  She hadn’t sensed any change in her magic, but the ice had vanished without a trace. 

Anna gave her a smile. 

“Of course it is.” 

“But…” Elsa said, looking at Marshmallow who was once again standing against the wall.  She looked down at her hands, then back at Anna.  “I couldn’t do it before.” 

“You did it now,” John said, “and that’s all that matters.” 

Elsa heaved a sigh of relief and sank into her throne.  She was glad the ice was gone but she couldn’t believe she had lost control again.  That was the third time in as many days and each episode seemed to be getting worse.  If she couldn’t get it under control she feared what might happen, how far things might go.  Why couldn’t she control it?  What was she missing? 

_Love,_ she thought, _love is the key._

Yes, she knew that love was the key, but that wasn’t helping at the moment.  Nothing seemed to be helping.  She had to get her emotions in check, had to reign in her anxiety, because if she didn’t- 

“Are you alright, Elsa?” Anna said. 

John and Anna were watching her with worried expressions and she realized she had been lost in her own somber thoughts.  She tried to reassure them with a smile but it felt weak and unconvincing. 

“Yes,” she said, “I’m alright.” 

“And I’m a purple grasshopper,” John said. 

“No, really, I’m ok.  Don’t worry about me.” 

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, I’ll worry about whatever I want, and right now I’m worried about you.” 

“What about your ships.” 

“My ships?  You think I’m worried about my ships?  Ships can be replaced, Elsa, they are just things.” 

“And what about your men?” 

“My men are thankful they were safe in their beds when the ships went down.  Many a sailor has not been so lucky.” 

“Yes, but-” 

“‘Yes, but’ nothing.  You need to stop worrying about the things you can’t control and focus on the things you can.  Your stress levels are far too high, Elsa.  When was the last time you had a respite from all of your troubles?” 

“A what?” 

“A respite.  A holiday.  You are in desperate need of a distraction, something to take your mind off your problems.” 

“A distraction?” 

“Yes, precisely.  To be honest, I think we could all benefit from a little diversion.” 

He rubbed his chin and thought for a moment, then he snapped his fingers. 

“I’ve got it!  What about the party?” 

“Party?” Anna said. “What party?” 

John’s words caught Elsa off guard.  She had forgotten about the party, in fact, it was the furthest thing from her mind and it took a moment to catch up to the sudden change of subject.  John seemed to detect her confusion. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “have I misspoken?  If the party was supposed to be a surprise, I truly apologize.” 

“Elsa,” Anna said, “what is he talking about?” 

Anna’s inquisitive eyes implored Elsa for an explanation but the answer escaped her.  She had been so preoccupied with birth announcements, undiscovered relatives, and massive infernos that she hadn’t given the party due consideration. 

“I hardly think this is the time to be planning parties,” Elsa said. 

“I couldn’t disagree more,” John said.  “I think a party is exactly what this kingdom needs right now.” 

“While there’s a traitor running around burning down ships?  I don’t think so.” 

“Traitor?” Anna said. 

“John doesn’t think the fire was an accident,” Elsa said. 

“I may have spoken too soon,” John said, holding up his hands.  “I was under a lot of stress last night and I may have jumped to a few conclusions.” 

“So you think the fire was an accident?” Elsa said. 

“Maybe.” 

“Maybe?” 

“Yes, maybe.  Look, Elsa, your kingdom is sinking into the mire of despair.  You know this and I know this.  I saw it on your face when I arrived, I see it in your servant’s eyes and I hear it in the people’s voices.  Everyone has lost hope.  Now, you can sulk in the throne room and wait in fear for the next bad thing to happen, or you can grab this kingdom by the collar and drag it out of the god-forsaken mud that’s swallowing it.  Let your guards do their job.  If there’s a traitor they’ll find him, and if there’s not you’re spending a whole lot of time worrying about nothing.  I urge you, Your Majesty, show this kingdom what it means to have hope.  Show them that _you_ have not lost hope.  A celebration is exactly what everyone needs.” 

“Elsa,” Anna said, shaking her head, “what is he talking about?” 

Elsa paused, giving it a moment’s consideration.  John’s blunt evaluation did not upset her and she had to admit he made a good point.  She supposed they had little to lose by holding a celebration.  She figured it would either be a moment of hope to lead them out of this disaster or it would be a last hurrah to bid farewell to the kingdom.  She truly hoped it would not be the latter. 

“He’s talking about your engagement party, of course.” 

“Engagement party?”  Anna said, taken aback.  “Are you serious?” 

She clasped her hands before her, a gesture which made Elsa smile.  Her sister always did that when she was trying to remain calm in the face of excitement. 

“You better not be joking!” Anna said.  “If you’re teasing me-” 

“I’m not teasing you,” Elsa said, standing up and taking her hands.  “John is right.  We can’t stop living our lives just because everything’s not going according to plan.  I don’t intend on letting the most important event of your life go uncelebrated, not when I have the means to do so.” 

“It doesn’t have to be big,” Anna said, grinning. 

“But it will be memorable.” 

Anna pressed a fist to her lips to stifle an outburst and produced a muffled squeal of delight.  Then she threw her arms around her sister and squeezed. 

“Thank you!  You have no idea how much this means to me!” 

“I think I do,” Elsa said, as Anna let go, “but it wouldn’t have been possible without…” 

She was going to say ‘John,’  but Anna had already turned and flung her arms around his neck.  John’s eyes flew open in surprise, his hands thrust out before him as if he didn’t know what to do, then Anna stepped away, wearing a sheepish grin. 

“Sorry,” she said, then turned back to Elsa, her hands covering her mouth as she gasped. 

“What am I going to wear?  What’s Kristoff going to wear?”  She grabbed Elsa’s arm.  “When is it?  Who’s going to be there?  When are we sending invitations?” 

“Not to worry,” Elsa said, “I’ll take care of all that.” 

The truth was, she didn’t know the answer to any of those questions.  She supposed they should have the party sooner rather than later, though.  As awful as it was to consider, Arendelle was wasting away and she had no idea when things would start getting better. 

_If they ever got better_ . 

No, she refused to think that way.  Things were going to get better, they had to. 

_And if they didn’t?_

She sighed and shook her head.  She knew what she would have to do if they didn’t get better.  She had known from the moment she drove the duke away in a flurry of uncontrolled magic.  She knew, but she didn’t want to think about it, not now.  That time had not yet arrived, and she hoped it never did. 

“Elsa,” Anna said, putting a hand on her arm, “are you alright?” 

Elsa nodded, but her thoughts had turned to the duke who she had so scornfully rejected.  He was probably setting sail right now, racing to claim the land she had promised and she did not look forward to the confrontation which would ensue.  She had no idea what would happen when he arrived but she knew one thing, no one would feel much like celebrating once he showed up. 

“How about we have it the day after tomorrow?” Elsa said. 

“The day after tomorrow?” Anna said.  “Are you serious?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“But that barely gives us any time to plan.” 

“It’s plenty of time.  That gives us two whole days.  We’ll prepare the invitations and send them out tonight.  The servants can start decorating and preparing the food, and I think we’ll even be able to scrounge up a band.  It will be perfect!” 

“Ok,” Anna said, her excitement tempered by doubt.  “Who will we invite?” 

“All of Arendelle of course!” 

“All of Arendelle?  Will everyone fit in the ballroom?” 

Elsa considered this and realized she may have spoken too soon.  It was true, there weren’t many people left in Arendelle but if they all came, as Elsa knew they would, the ballroom would be filled to maximum capacity.  It might be standing room only and that wouldn’t do at all.  How would they dance?  There was no way she was going to throw a party for Anna without dancing. 

“Why not have it in the courtyard?”  John said. 

“The courtyard?” Elsa said.  It was an unconventional suggestion, she thought.  All royal affairs took place in the ballroom.  It was a beautiful room designed for just that purpose, but the courtyard was little more than an open space with drab walls and a stone floor.  It hardly seemed like the ideal location. 

“Well, sure,” John said.  “It’s probably big enough to hold everyone, and it’s not like you have to worry about the rain, right?”  He gave a playful shrug. 

Elsa did not find the rain comment humorous, but he did have a point, she thought.  Perhaps it wasn’t the perfect location under normal circumstances, but these were far from normal circumstances. 

“What do you think?” Elsa asked Anna.  Anna shrugged. 

“Sure!” 

“Very well,” Elsa said, “it’s settled.  We’ll have it in the courtyard and everyone will be invited.” 

Anna’s excitement returned and she stood with her hands clasped under her chin, bouncing on her toes.   

“Oh, Elsa, it’s going to be wonderful!  I’ve got to tell Kristoff!  We have to start decorating!” 

“Hold on, just a minute,” Elsa said, taking a step back.  “I have something else to discuss with you.” 

“You do?” 

Elsa nodded.  She knew Anna was excited to begin preparations but she wanted the party to be as much of a surprise as possible.  She had a matter that Anna could attend to while the rest of the castle readied for the celebration. 

“John,” she said, “thank you for your counsel, I appreciate it.” 

“Of course,” he said with a bow. 

“I need to talk to my sister, alone.  Would you mind excusing us?” 

“Not at all.  I will be on the docks if you need me.  My men have already begun dismantling what remains of the ships.” 

“Once again, I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“And once again, it’s nothing to worry about.  Don’t let a minor setback distract you from more important things.  It’s not everyday that your sister gets engaged, after all.” 

He gave her a wink, bowed again, then left.  Anna waited until his footsteps faded down the hall, then said, “So, what did you want to talk to me about?” 

Elsa gathered her dress and sat down, but she wasn’t sure where to start.  She thought about her evening in the archives and how she stumbled across the name of a relative she had never heard of.  It occurred to her that Anna might already know about the aunt and that she might be the only one her father had kept the secret from.  She had no reason to believe this but, still, it bothered her.  Secrets in general bothered her.  They either meant someone wasn’t trusted or something dangerous needed to be hidden, and either way she didn’t like it. 

“Did you know we had an aunt?” Elsa said at last. 

“An aunt?  What do you mean?” 

She was relieved to see Anna’s confusion. 

“It would seem that father had a twin.” 

“A twin?” Anna shook her head.  “What are you talking about?” 

“I was in the archives last night, looking for John’s birth announcement-” 

“So that’s where you went.” 

“Yes, and while I was there I found father’s birth announcement.  Only, it had another name on it.  A Princess Inger.  Have you heard of her before?” 

“No, never.” 

“Nor have I, and that’s why it’s so strange.” 

Anna nodded, then shrugged. 

“Maybe she died as a baby.” 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I thought,” Elsa said, pushing herself to her feet.  “But I found her death record too.  It says she was lost at sea at the age of nineteen.” 

“Really?” 

Elsa nodded. 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Anna said.  “Why wouldn’t father tell us about her?” 

“I don’t know, but I think it’s worth investigating, don’t you?” 

“Yes, of course.” 

“Then I would like you to go to the archives, you’ll find the key in my room.  See what you can find out about this Princess Inger.  I don’t like secrets in my castle, I want to know why father kept her hidden from us.” 

“Ok.” 

“If you need any help just ask Tobias.  I’m sure he will-” 

Elsa stopped short, her attention drawn to the archway as someone entered the throne room.  It was Alek followed by two of his guards. 

He looked terrible, Elsa thought.  His eyes were red and ringed with dark circles, and he had charcoal smudges all over his face, hands, and uniform.  The guards with him were equally disheveled, looking like they had rolled through the ashes of a fireplace.  Alek looked at Anna first and Elsa detected something in his expression, disapproval or disappointment, she wasn’t sure. 

“I apologize for the intrusion, Your Majesty, but I understand John was here.” 

Elsa didn’t like his tone.  It sounded like a scolding, as if John’s visit were some sort of crime or a violation of protocol. 

“Yes, he was.”  She wanted to ask him why he was questioning her choice of company, but she decided against that, choosing instead a more diplomatic approach.  “Is there a problem with that?”   

“My men have orders to keep everyone out of the throne room until we can sort this mess out.” 

It seemed like an extreme measure, banning everyone from the throne room, and she didn’t like Alek making such wide sweeping decisions without her.  Then she recalled Anna’s confrontation with the guard when her and John had arrived.  She turned to her sister. 

“Did you know about this?” 

“Well…” Anna said, grimacing.  “Not really.  Kind of.  Yes.” 

Elsa raised an eyebrow. 

“John was so worried about you!” Anna continued.  “He wanted to come see you but they were practically holding him prisoner at the docks.  I had to sneak him out of there!” 

The thought of John being made to feel like a prisoner after all he’d been through invoked Elsa’s ire, and she narrowed her eyes at Alek. 

“I gave no such order.” 

“No, Your Majesty, you were sleeping.  Keeping John and his men contained was my decision and Princess Anna, who was supposed to be in the castle under guard herself, ditched her protection in order to undermine my authority.  She showed a willful disregard for everyone’s safety, and what is more-” 

“That is enough, Alek.” 

Elsa’s emotions were beginning to boil but she wasn’t sure what upset her more, his treatment of John or his accusation against Anna. 

“Your Majesty,” he said, lowering his voice, “you don’t seem to understand the seriousness of the situation.” 

“I think I do.” 

“Then why would you allow the princess to endanger-” 

“I will not have Anna’s motives called into question!” Elsa shouted.  “Nor will I allow John and his men to be treated like criminals!” 

It was a harsh rebuttal, but Alek did not back down.  His expression hardened as he took a step forward, jabbing a finger at the window. 

“Your Majesty, those ships did not burn themselves down!” 

Elsa gaped at him. 

“What are you suggesting?” 

“I am suggesting that until we find out who was responsible for setting fire to the ships that you allow me to do what needs to be done to protect you!” 

“You think John did that?” 

“It’s a possibility we need to consider.” 

“And what proof do you have?” 

“I said it’s a possibility.” 

“Isn’t it also possible that those fires were not set by John?” 

She waited for his response but it didn’t come.  He tried to hide his anger behind his silence but she could see it in the way he set his jaw and the way he hunched his shoulders.  She was angry too, angry that John would be treated like an enemy of her kingdom. 

“Is it possible,” she said, “that the fire was just an accident?” 

Alek shook his head. 

“I find that unlikely.” 

“Well I find it unlikely that he would sail three ships full of supplies all the way to Arendelle just to burn them to the ground!  You will not come in here making accusations without a shred of evidence to back it up!  Until we have reason to believe otherwise, Prince John and his men will not be treated as enemies, do you understand?” 

Alek did not reply, he just stared at her with cold, hard eyes.  His stubbornness to accept any possibility which opposed his own outlandish assumptions infuriated her. 

“Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” 

Elsa took a deep breath and tried to settle her nerves.  She had never argued with Alek before, not like this, and she didn’t like it.  Why was he so intent on pinning such a despicable act on John?  What reason did he have to mistrust him?  There was no reason, other than his relation to Hans, and it wasn’t fair to judge a man by his family.  She knew it was Alek’s job to protect her, but she wouldn’t allow him to alienate those who had risked their lives to help Arendelle, not without any evidence to support his accusations. 

“Will there be anything else, Your Majesty?” he said. 

“No,” she said, her heart still racing from their confrontation. “That will be all.” 

Alek left, leaving the guards behind to keep watch over the archway.  There was silence for a time and then Anna asked, “What’s gotten into him?” 

“I don’t know,” Elsa said with a sigh, massaging her temples.  Her headache had returned and it sent shockwaves through her body with each throb of her elevated pulse.  She groaned and rubbed at her eyes, the accumulated exhaustion of the last six months descending upon her all at once. 

She wondered if her father had ever had to deal with such overwhelming problems.  He had always been busy, meeting with dignitaries, hosting heads of state, addressing local concerns, and advancing kingdom interests, but he never seemed overwhelmed by the issues confronting him.  She had detected a sadness in him at times, that was true.  Whenever he came to read to her, or discuss her magic, or put her to bed for the night, he would often give her a smile and sometimes she saw sadness hiding behind that smile, but he never seemed overwhelmed.  How had he managed to cope with the burden of the crown? 

Of course, he had never had to deal with anything as complex or destructive as this drought.  Perhaps no ruler in the history of Arendelle ever had. 

“Kristoff!” 

Elsa looked up to see Anna running toward Kristoff.  He had just arrived and she met him at the entrance to embrace him, and as he hugged her Elsa could see he in his eyes that he hadn’t got much sleep either.  It would seem they were all suffering from sleep deprivation.  Massive, nocturnal fires had a way of doing that, she supposed. 

“Guess what?” Anna said, her excitement showing again.  “We’re going to have an engagement party!” 

“A what?” Kristoff said, holding her at arm’s length as if to inspect her.  “What kind of engagement party?” 

“The kind where people dance and have a good time, silly.” 

Kristoff pushed her aside and turned to Elsa.  His hair was ruffled and he had a black smudge mark on his chin, which Anna wiped at with a spit moistened thumb.  He brushed her hand away. 

“Is that true?” 

There was a hint of disapproval in the question and Elsa didn’t like it, as if he thought she were guilty of some negligence or carelessness for throwing them a party. 

“Yes,” she said, “we’re going to use some of the supplies John delivered to celebrate your engagement.  Nothing extravagant, not like you deserve, but a celebration of this sort could do wonders for lifting everyone’s spirits.” 

Kristoff frowned. 

“Do you think that’s the wisest use of Arendelle’s resources?” 

It felt like everyone had been doubting her ability to care for her people lately, and she was growing weary of it. 

“That is not for you to decide,” she said. 

“I know, I know,” he said, raising his hands, “but if we don’t find water we’re going to need every one of those provisions to last as long as possible, especially with the additional mouths to feed.” 

“You don’t think I know that?”  Her anger had barely had a chance to settle and now she could feel it rising again.  “A couple of day’s worth of provisions is not going to save Arendelle if this drought continues.  Besides, what good will it be if we survive the drought with a broken spirit?” 

Kristoff did not appear moved by her words.  He stood silent, as if he were waiting for more, then he shook his head. 

“I don’t understand, this doesn’t sound like you at all.  It’s just not practical Elsa.  Have you thought this through?” 

“Of course I have.” 

“Kristoff,” Anna said, grabbing his arm, but he ignored her. 

“Wait a minute,” he said, as if realizing something. “Was this John’s idea?” 

Elsa scowled at him. 

“Why would that matter?” 

“Are you kidding me?  Are you telling me you still trust him after what happened last night?” 

Elsa rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t tell me you think he set his ships on fire, too.” 

“Well?  Isn’t it obvious?” 

“No, it isn’t!  Why would he do that?” 

Kristoff put his hands on his head and turned away, exasperated, then he spun back around, his voice teetering on the edge of a shout. 

“Because now he’s stuck here and can take his time to execute whatever evil plot he has in mind for Arendelle!” 

Elsa’s body quaked with emotion and she lowered her head, glaring at Kristoff through the tops of her eyes, but she did not reply. 

“Elsa!  Don’t be a fool!  Don’t let John finish what Hans started!” 

“John is not Hans!” she yelled, shooting out of her seat.  “And I will not have my decisions questioned by an ice deliverer!” 

Anna gasped and Kristoff straightened, his back stiffening.  Though he tried to hide it Elsa could see that her words had stung him. 

“I’m sorry Kristoff,” she said, putting a hand over her mouth as she fell back into the throne, every reason for her anger evaporating in an instant.  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it.” 

Kristoff hardened his expression, removing any trace of shock and hurt from his eyes.  He sniffed and wiped at his nose with the back of his arm.  Anna tried to take his hand but he shook her off. 

“I would like permission to take a delivery of water to my family,” he said.  His voice was cold, emotionless. 

Elsa’s heart sank and she felt tears burning in her eyes.  She had hurt the one man who had given more than anyone else, who had sacrificed everything he had for Arendelle, and what he could not give, all that remained, all that he held so dear, was taken by the drought.  It had taken his business, his livelihood, his identity, and his self-respect.  It had taken any chance he might have had for a normal courtship with Anna and it had robbed him of nearly all hope for a happy future.  And, if all that were not enough, now she had taken his dignity away with her cruel words. 

He was waiting for her response and she knew he wanted to leave.  Caring for the rock trolls who had raised him was one of the few things that gave him a sense of purpose, but she was afraid that if he left he might miss his own party. 

“Of course you can,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper.  “Just please wait until after your party.” 

Kristoff nodded then turned to go.  Anna put a hand on his shoulder. 

“No, Anna,” he said, brushing her away.  “I need to be alone.” 

He left and hurried out the archway. 

Anna turned to Elsa, her eyes filling with tears.  Elsa choked back her own tears, unable to offer anything in her own defense. 

“How could you?” Anna said, then she left too, and Elsa sat alone, listening to the soft click of her shoes as they faded into the distance. 


End file.
